A Chance of thunderstorms
by Teesinger
Summary: A certain blonde Peds surgeon accidentally hurts the 10-million-dollar hands of a world famous musician. What might the consequences be?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I know I have no business starting a new story when I haven't finished the old one! But Irresistible Force is a couple of chapters away from its conclusion, and I fully intend to finish. I hope you'll forgive this foray into new territory, and hope you don't hate it. Calzona, I promise.**

How life can turn on a dime sometimes. Or in this case, the swinging of a door.

It hadn't been a stellar year for Arizona Robbins, not by a long shot. It had started with the most time-honoured cliché of all, something so worthy a B-grade movie or trashy romance novel that it doesn't even need telling. Suffice it to say that she had, in the most dramatic fashion, walked in on her partner of two years having it off with a neighbor. To add insult to injury, it was the _guy_ from next door—a hunk of toned, tanned muscle and dubious mental acuity, who had been, until that day, Carly's instructor at the gym. Soon, and in her mind, _indecently_ soon, she got the news that Carly was _marrying_ the aforementioned gym instructor. Things had been proceeding so much like a thousand other stories she had heard, that it was no surprise to her when she found out that her ex was pregnant. It was nice to know the universe could be so predictable sometimes. Sort of comforting.

Ironic—to think this was the same woman who had frozen over like a glacier and shut Arizona down when she had even mentioned, once, the subject of children. It was rubbing salt in the injury and compounding the insult tenfold. It still made her angry, eight months down the line, to even think about it.

A move had seemed like a good idea. She had torn up the roots she'd been putting down in Balitmore, and relocated them to Seattle. It had been a wise and positive career choice, a necessary change of scene. She had just finished her fellowship in pediatric surgery, and Seattle Grace Mercy West had hired her as an attending.

She hadn't bargained, however, for having to work for a man like Robert Stark. The man was an ass. A complete and utter, honest-to-god, dyed-in-the-wool ass. There was no other way to describe him. He had a very interesting idea of the word 'delegate.' To him, it meant 'do practically nothing, get all your work done for you by the unfortunate new attending.' Or so it seemed to Arizona.

She had been at SGMW for about three months now, and as a relative newcomer, had few friends. For someone who made friends easily wherever she went, this was unusual. The crowd at SGMW were very clique-y, and she had yet to break through their barriers. Not only were they rather insular, but if the grapevine had it right, they had a disturbing tendency to bed-hop. She had made one friend in Teddy Altman, the Cardio-thoracic surgeon, but quite often, she found herself walking down the unfamiliar path of loneliness.

The month before, she had lost a patient in the most senseless way—a two-year old with a ventricular septal defect that should have been a simple fix, especially for a team like herself Teddy Altman. The child developed a paradoxical embolus and stroked out even before they had got her in the OR. It was wrong and unfair, and she hated her job then. Life and the universe had been conspiring to beat her down for a while—or that's what it felt like.

It was, therefore, quite a subdued and uncharacteristically serious Arizona Robbins who made her way into her favorite coffee house that morning in September. It had been drizzling steadily as she made her way down the street, but she hadn't bothered to even pull up her hood, or open the umbrella that she had to carry around with her. The cool droplets of rain on her face felt refreshing, and the breeze whipped her blonde hair into a tangle. She didn't seem to mind.

The aroma of fresh coffee that assailed her nostrils as she walked into the Java Junkie felt like heaven. Hopefully, today would prove to be no worse than yesterday, and that would be a really good thing right now. She gave her order to the barista with a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes, and checked her messages and emails on her phone while she waited. Carly had taken to messaging her now and again, and she had studiously ignored her texts. This morning, there was yet another inane message waiting for her, asking her "What's going down?" accompanied by a winky-faced emoticon. Arizona felt enraged. She grabbed her cup of coffee without so much as a thank you (much to the disappointment of the barista, who waited for her to come in every morning) and typing, one-handed, a rude and to-the-point message that read something like 'go screw yourself,' she made her way towards the door.

With her eyes glued to her phone, she didn't pay attention to the woman coming into the coffee house. If she had, she might not have dismissed the statuesque and arresting brunette who held one of the swing doors open for her, with a nod and hastily muttered "thanks." She brushed past, her shoulder pushing the other door open slightly as well.

The brunette, however, seemed to stop in her tracks for a moment. The crystal pools of blue that looked up momentarily from the phone seemed to catch her attention, and she stood there with her hand gripping one of the swinging doors, even after it had swung back into place. She half-turned, and her eyes followed as the blonde head, still wet with droplets of rain, went past her. Her hand was not on the handle of the door, but holding the edge, and as she stood there, forgetful for a moment of where she was, or what she was doing, the other door, which had been moved as Arizona pushed through, swung back into place, smacking onto her hand painfully.

"OW! Motherfffff-!" The shouted expletive brought the whole coffee shop to a standstill, and Arizona turned around to see a gorgeous brunette, her face now contorted with pain and fury, clutching her hand to her chest and looking at her as if she had just committed murder. She hurried back into the shop, and put her coffee and phone down on the nearest table.

"What happened?" she asked the woman, who glared at her.

"YOU CLOSED THE DOOR ON MY HAND!" the woman yelled, her face going red with rage, but her eyes showing something much more akin to fear.

"M'am, I'm very sorry, but you held the door open for me, why didn't you just take your hand away?" Arizona asked reasonably.

"DON'T CALL ME M'AM!" was the shouted response. "What the hell were you thinking? Couldn't tear your eyes away from your phone for ONE second, and see that I was still in the doorway?"

Now that the angry brunette had Arizona's fullest attention, she could see that the woman was beyond beautiful. Unlawfully attractive. Tall and curvaceous, with glowing skin the colour of honey, she had waves of midnight hair that framed a face that might have been sculpted by an artist. Eyes of the darkest shade of brown now glowered at her, making her steeply curved eyebrows form a flying V of anger over her haughty nose, which just escaped the aquiline. All in all, she was breathtaking. Arizona had to shake her head to stop herself from gaping.

"What can I call you then? Please let me see your hand…" She held out her hand as she asked, and moved towards the other woman.

"Don't touch it!" The brunette whipped her hand away. "You might do even more harm than you've done already."

"M'am, aren't you dramatizing this just a little? Please give me your hand, I'm a doctor," said Arizona, exercising some control to keep her temper. The brunette might be gorgeous, but she was a drama queen.

"I told you not to call me that," she snapped, cradling her hand to her chest. She was haughty and imperious, clearly used to getting her own way, and ordering people around.

"I will continue to call you m'am until you tell me what your name is," retorted Arizona. "Now let me see your hand."

"I'm Callie Torres," announced the brunette, as if she was conferring an honour on those around her by disclosing her name. "And maybe now you might understand what you've done."

"Hello, Callie Torres. I have no idea who you are, but I'm _doctor_ Arizona Robbins, and I would like you to give me your hand. Please," Arizona repeated her request for the fourth time with as much patience as she could muster.

Relenting at last, Callie held out her right hand, and Arizona took it gently in hers. She had to admit, it was beautiful, like everything else about the fiery woman before her. The skin was smooth and soft, the fingers long and tapered. Her nails were surprisingly short, but buffed and polished, carefully manicured. For all its seeming delicacy, she could feel the strength beneath the soft skin of that hand. For long seconds, Arizona merely held the proffered hand in hers, and the brunette looked on, eyebrows raised in a question.

"Well?" she demanded, "You've got my hand. Are you just going to hold it? I can find someone else to do that, thank you very much."

The last comment snapped Arizona out of her meditative state. She examined the hand, on the back of which a bruise was already forming. Callie winced every time she touched it. As far as she could tell, her wrist was fine, and there didn't seem to be any broken bones, but only an x-ray would confirm that for her.

"Ms. Torres, I think your hand is just bruised, but I think you should get an x-ray to rule out any damage to the metacarpals."

"You think there might be a fracture?" Callie's voice suddenly went from angry to scared. "Oh my god! What if there's a fracture? What am I going to do?" Panic had set in thoroughly. "I've got a concert tomorrow evening! I'm booked for performances in London next week, and Paris the week after. This is a disaster!" She looked ready to cry.

"You're a musician?" asked Arizona, intrigued.

"Pianist," was the short response.

It suddenly made sense, the exaggerated reaction to the injury. Being a surgeon, Arizona understood only too well how precious her hands were. If she injured her hands, she lost not only her livelihood, but the joy of doing what she loved best. With much more sympathy in her voice, she offered to take the distraught woman to the hospital.

"It's only a couple of blocks away, come with me—I'll make sure you get priority," she said.

The brunette only nodded, and wordlessly strode outside, shouldering open the door this time. Arizona followed, and seeing that it was now raining quite hard pulled out her umbrella and hurried after Callie, who was walking purposefully down the street in the wrong direction.

"Ms. Torres! It's the other way!" she yelled, above the noise of the traffic. Callie turned around with an annoyed hiss, and accepted the shelter of Arizona's umbrella with very bad grace. They covered the walk to the hospital in stony silence, Arizona looking sideways now and then at the brunette's angry profile, and Callie just staring at the pavement in front of her, lips set. They were both relieved when they reached SGMW's ER.

Eager now to be rid of her sulky charge, Arizona found two interns to get Callie's X-rays done.

"You're interns?" the irate woman demanded of the two doctors who Arizona had left her with.

"Yes, m'am," one of them responded eagerly, "Just out of med school."

"Whoa there. Stop right now. No intern is going to touch me, or my hand—someone get me a real doctor!" Arizona heard the demand as she made her way out of the ER. Finally losing her temper, she turned around and marched back to where the two maligned interns were trying to reason with the temperamental Latina.

"Look. They're perfectly capable of taking an x-ray. Please try to co-operate with them," She said, through gritted teeth.

"Isn't it enough that you smashed my hand? Now you're palming me off on interns?" was the response.

"M'am," Arizona said it emphatically, needling the already angry woman who had asked her not to call her that, "I have real patients with real ailments to look after. I cannot babysit spoiled divas. I'm sorry your hand got hurt, but it was really your own fault. I didn't even touch that door, if you remember. Now please, stop being difficult, and let these doctors X-ray your hand."

It was a slow day in the ER, and all activity seemed to have ceased for the moment. Every nurse, resident and intern in the room had turned their attention on the little scene that was developing between Dr. Robbins and a very angry looking woman.

Just then, a curtain which had been drawn around one of the beds was pulled back to reveal Dr. Sloan. Pulling off his gloves, he snapped his fingers at one of the interns. "You, with the bad hair—finish debriding the patient in bed 3, and call me when you're done."

The intern scuttled away to obey orders, and Mark Sloan sauntered towards the little gathering in the middle of the room, his experienced and roving eye homing in on the beautiful woman who seemed to be causing the scene.

"What seems to be the problem here?" he asked, giving her his signature sexy smile. She seemed to relax at once in his calm and confident presence. It didn't hurt that he was undeniably handsome—even Arizona had to admit that, and it annoyed her even more. Seeing Arizona's seething face Sloan smiled even wider, and said, flippantly,

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Blondie?" It was inappropriate, and calculated to enrage. He had been trying to ask her out since she got here, and had been rebuffed each time. She had been curiously distant—always polite, but almost icily so. He'd come to the conclusion that she was either gay or frigid. She didn't look very frigid now, however. Her face was flushed, her normally calm blue eyes ignited with indignation, and her posture defiant. She looked hot.

"Here's a real doctor for you, Ms. Torres," she said, ignoring Sloan's comment. "I'm sure he'll be able to read your X-rays and tell you your hand is fine." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the ER as fast as possible. Not quick enough, however, to miss overhearing Callie Torres telling Mark Sloan that "Dr. Barbie" was a little touchy.

"Such a frickin' diva," she muttered to herself, as she made her way to the peds floor. She couldn't concentrate for the rest of the day, her mind kept wandering back to the scene in the coffee shop, and later in the ER. The comment about Dr. Barbie had really gotten under her skin, though it was not the first time the reference had been made. She was so over being judged on her looks and compared to the doll she had hated even as a child. Callie Torres' words had stung, and the injustice of her accusations still rankled, but she just could not get the image of the insanely hot brunette out of her head.

That night, in the privacy of her apartment, she googled Callie Torres, and spent a good hour or so doing 'research' on the spoiled beauty. A lot of the research consisted of looking at photos of her, but she absorbed some information also. Calliope Torres—that was such a pretty name—was one of the most gifted classical pianists of the younger generation. Now in her early thirties, she had matured into a concert artist who was renowned for her passionate interpretation and consummate skill. She really was kind of a big deal—she had a show in Seattle tomorrow, and one two days later in New York. Then she was due at concerts all over Europe over the next month. One article even stated that her hands had been insured for millions of dollars—though it really couldn't confirm how many millions.

Arizona was very thankful that the woman's hands were really unhurt. She had checked with Mark Sloan later in the day, as much as it had gone against the grain to do so. He had laughed and said that the lovely termagant would have some pain for a while, but there was nothing wrong with her hand. Knowing she was performing a tough piece tomorrow, Arizona felt just a little bit bad for the woman if she was going to be in pain.

She read on. She found that Callie was the daughter of a hotel magnate from Florida, and had had quite the privileged upbringing. Arizona could find no recent mention of a partner, and couldn't understand why she bothered to even look. There was some mention in an article that was dated a few years ago, of an engagement to a conductor in New York, but that had obviously not come to anything because Calliope Torres was still single. On reading that little snippet of news, however, Arizona felt a small pang of regret. The woman was straight—but what did she even care?

More recent articles showed her in the company of Erica Hahn, the producer of a major recording label, and there had been some whisperings that their relationship was not strictly professional, but even those conjectures had died down. Torres was based in New York, but her frequent performances around the world meant that she was never in one place very long.

Sleep claimed Arizona very soon after she'd read that last article, and she dreamed all night of a beautiful latina who repeatedly asked her out, and whom she spurned every time without a moment's hesitation. 'Only in your dreams,' she thought, when she woke up.

XXX

Arizona walked into the Peds ward the next morning, determined not to be distracted, to get on with her job, and make something of the new life she was building for herself out here in Seattle. That meant being more sociable, bothering to make friends with her bed-hopping colleagues, forgetting about Carly and her silly texts, and not dwelling on yesterday's debacle with Calliope Torres.

She was getting ready for rounds, heading towards the room of the first patient on her list, when she was distracted by the sight of the most beautiful display of white tulips at the nurses' station.

"Oh, Dr. Robbins!" One of the nurses called out on seeing her. Arizona turned and looked enquiringly at her.

"These arrived for you," said the nurse, indicating the flowers.

"For me? Really?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. Who would send her flowers. And white tulips? Where would you even get those? It was bizarre. She went up to the nurse's station, and looked at the gorgeous creamy blooms.

"They're absolutely beautiful," she breathed.

"This came with them," said the nurse, handing her an envelope. "Did someone do something to piss you off, Dr. Robbins?" asked the nurse curiously. Arizona looked at her, wondering how she could have known that. The flowers could easily be from an admirer.

"I did a bit of googling…" continued the nurse, "because I was a bit curious as to the choice of flower."

Arizona's interest was really piqued now. "What do they mean, Maggie?" She asked impatiently.

"Well, I read that you send someone white tulips if you're asking for forgiveness… these are the most beautiful blooms aren't they? And I doubt they're in season. Whoever sent them must be really, really sorry for whatever they did, to have gone to so much trouble to get them to you." Her eyes sparkled with interest, and Arizona smiled at her not-so-subtle fishing for information.

She opened the envelope, and found a note inside, along with two tickets to Callie Torres' performance with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra that evening. She opened the folded sheet of paper, and read the words that had been penned in a sloping, cursive script.

_Dear Dr. Robbins,_

_I'm so very sorry about the way I behaved yesterday. I hope you can forgive me. I know I am over-sensitive, and that I have a tendency to overreact, especially where my hands are concerned. I hope you understand, being a surgeon. _

_I do apologize for making that crass and infantile comment about a certain doll—I'm sure you know what I mean. I certainly didn't mean it, and I'm very sorry for having insulted you. You cannot imagine how much I want to unsay those words, and all the words I spoke to you yesterday._

_Thank you for taking me to the ER, even after I had been so nasty to you. Please try not to think too badly of me. I have included a couple of tickets to my concert, just in case you are fond of classical music._

_I hope I will get the opportunity to see you again, so that I may tell you in person how sorry I am._

_Callie Torres._

Arizona looked up from the letter. She almost felt she could forgive the woman when she read the heartfelt plea. _Almost._ Then she remembered the way Callie Torres had smiled at Dr. Sloan and called her 'Dr. Barbie,' and her heart hardened.

"Maggie," she said, evenly, "Do you have a pair of scissors there?"

"Um, yeah, Dr. Robbins, do you want me to cut the stems of the tulips so that you can put them in a vase?" the nurse asked hopefully.

"No. Just give them to me, Maggie," said Arizona. When the nurse handed her the scissors, she calmly took the bouquet of gorgeous blooms and snipped the flowers into tiny pieces while Maggie watched, open-mouthed. The debris from the annihilated bouquet was gathered up, still in deadly calm, and put back in the basket the flowers came in. Then she took the note and the tickets, ripped them in two and placed them on top of the sad remnants of the white tulips.

"Maggie, could you have this basket delivered, please?" She said, not a tremor in her voice. "To Ms. Calliope Torres. I don't know where she's staying, but please, could you get it sent to the concert hall where the Seattle Symphony is playing this evening?"

She paused for a moment. Even in her cold rage, she didn't want the performer to receive the mangled remains of her peace offering _before_ the night's performance, since one could never tell how she might react.

"Could you tell the delivery guy to see that she gets it _after_ the performance?" She asked, and the nurse nodded slowly, her mouth still agape.

"Thank you, Maggie," said Arizona, as if she had just asked the woman to hand her a patient chart.

"She must have REALLY pissed you off, huh?"

**TBC/ or not? Would you like to see how it turns out?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, thank you for the positive response to the first chapter! I truly appreciate the feedback and comments. Hope you enjoy the next installment.**

Callie looked at the basket of ruined tulips and felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. Her apology had been heartfelt and sincere, and it had been gracelessly thrown back in her face. She didn't know why she felt so devastated. She'd never been needy, could handle being disliked—so why this sudden feeling of distress? She reached out and took one petal that had escaped Arizona's scissors, and contemplated it for a moment.

She'd been inattentive. She'd been momentarily distracted by the woman who'd brushed past her at the coffee shop yesterday—and she couldn't figure out what _exactly_ it had been about Dr. Robbins that had caught her attention. The woman was very attractive, though most unconsciously so—and she had gorgeous eyes—a stunning shade of blue that stopped Callie in her tracks. But it was not only her striking eyes, or the sunny, tangled curls, or that decisively pointed little chin that had made her look. It was a sudden and electric sense of _recognition_ that suddenly overwhelmed her, though she knew beyond a doubt that she had never seen Arizona before in her life.

When the door had smacked on to her hand, she had lost it. Behaved like an idiot. The pain had driven every other thought out of her mind, and the fear that she might have seriously injured her hand, with a concert tour approaching, had made her overreact. Admittedly, she had a hasty temper, one that had too often landed her in trouble. However, pain and fear alone could not explain why she had been so intractable at the hospital, needling and insulting the doctor who had been nice enough to take her there, or why she felt the need to flirt with Dr. Sloan when she noticed that he enraged the blonde. And why had she felt compelled to add that snarky little rider about Barbie, when she knew Dr. Robbins could hear her? Actually, she was nothing like Barbie—there was character in every line of her face, and intelligence fairly crackled out of those electric blue eyes. So why do everything in her power to piss Dr. Robbins off? Callie was at a loss to account for her behavior. When she came back to her hotel room, she'd had a couple of hours before rehearsal to ponder the whole morning's drama, and she realized she owed the doctor an apology.

And now she was holding pieces of that apology in her hands, and feeling like she might cry.

There was a knock at the door, and the elegantly styled red head of and Addison Montgomery, her best friend and manager, popped in.

"You've got about 10 minutes," she said. "They've just started the Overture." Seeing her friend looking as if she was getting ready to hurl her last meal, she came into the dressing room, and closer to Callie. "What's up, beautiful?" she asked. "You're not nervous, are you?"

Callie turned to her friend, holding up the petal in response, and nodding towards the basket of chopped tulips. "I guess I'm not forgiven, huh?"

Addison's green eyes widened as they took in the savaged flowers in the basket, and then she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Do you know how much trouble I had finding white tulips when they're out of season?"

"I know, Addie. I'm sorry." Callie looked at the petal in her hand again, and then shrugged. "I don't know why it even bothers me."

"A hot chick telling you to shove off? I can tell you why it bothers you, maestro—you're not used to rejection, from either sex!"

Callie said nothing, and continued to finger the white petal, a puzzled look on her face. Addison patted her arm consolingly.

"Time to ponder the ways of contrary females later, hon. You're on soon, so stop looking like a kicked puppy and get your act together."

Sucking in a deep breath, Callie dropped the petal back in the basket, and stepped in front of the mirror in her dressing room, smoothing her hand down her red concert gown. She had about five minutes before she had to go on stage and perform Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto, and she was not going to let herself be distracted. The work was difficult enough, and she had to play through the pain in her bruised hand tonight. She was going to be awesome, she told herself, as the butterflies started their dance in her tummy. They never failed to do that before she went on stage, even after many years as one of the most sought after soloists in the music world.

Addison took her hand and squeezed it firmly. "You look gorgeous. Now go knock 'em dead."

XXX

_**Earlier that evening**_

When Arizona finished her evening rounds, she came back to the nurse's station where she'd impulsively slaughtered a bunch of tulips that morning.

"Maggie?"

The nurse she had spoken to earlier was still there.

"Maggie, did you send those flowers back already?"

"Yes, doctor Robbins. One basket of mangled white tulips, picked up a few minutes ago and en route to the concert hall." She regarded Arizona in amusement.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" The new Peds surgeon covered her face with her hands. Then, without another word, she took off down the hall, and ran down the three flights of stairs that would take her to the floor the main entrance was on. Rushing through the lobby, she ran full tilt out into the parking lot, looking around for traces of the delivery guy. There was very little activity going on, and no delivery service to be seen at all. She looked up at the sky, raised her outstretched arms in a gesture that asked, very eloquently, "Why?" and turned back towards the hospital, defeated. She just could not catch a break.

She'd had an extremely busy day, with scarcely a minute to even grab some lunch. Dr. Stark didn't like to see her standing still for a second. She'd not had a moment to process her extremely rash actions that morning. It was not like her to be petty and vindictive, especially when she _knew_ that Callie Torres' apology had been sincere. Now, as she walked slowly back into the hospital and up to the Peds floor, she contemplated her lapse in judgment.

She put her irrational behavior down to the frustration she'd been feeling all year. Carly's defection. Her own conspicuous lack of friends in Seattle. Dr. Stark's idea that she was his own personal slave. The loss of her VSD kid last month. The fact that being called 'Barbie' always made her see red. It was the proverbial last straw that broke the camel's back.

She didn't really analyze too much the fact that she'd felt a strong and instantaneous connection with the brunette, and the sight of her even smiling at Dr Sloan had caused a surge of bad, bad, crazy feelings inside her. It was crazy. It really was. She had acted like a child, and now the hot brunette would always think of her as a mean-spirited and spiteful cow. Why did it even bother her? She would probably never see Callie Torres again.

By now, she was back at Maggie's station, and the nurse was eyeing her as if she might be a little dangerous.

"Is anything wrong, Dr. Robbins?"

"Maggie, can you give me the number of the courier or delivery people you called?" she asked.

"Uh—I can call them for you, if you like?" offered the nurse, seeing the dejected droop of Arizona's head. "What do you want to tell them?"

"Please, tell them not to take the flowers to Ms. Torres. Please," said Arizona. "Thanks, Maggie," she added, as the nurse smiled sympathetically at her, and proceeded to dial. A short conversation later, she turned back to Arizona.

"I'm afraid it's too late, Dr. Robbins. The delivery guy went straight there after picking up the basket."

Something like panic hit Arizona. "What? But it's still early—the concert wouldn't have even started yet! They were supposed to wait until it was finished!"

"I know, I did specify that—but they seem to have got it all mixed up." Maggie touched Arizona's forearm in a motherly way. "Are you alright? You seem a little ….upset."

"I'm fine. Really. There's no cure for being an asshole."

"Whatever it is, it can't be so bad—we all do stupid things when we're angry. Just talk to her, your girlfriend will understand." The nurse was curious about the new doctor. In the three months she'd been there, she'd seen Arizona politely turn down a number of people, both male and female. Maggie thought she'd finally figured out why. Dr. Robbins was already in a relationship.

"She's not my girlfriend," snapped Arizona. "I never saw her in my life until yesterday."

"Could've fooled me," muttered Maggie as Arizona turned and left. "If that's not a lovers' quarrel, I don't know what is."

XXX

Callie woke up feeling indignant. Her concert had gone well—in fact, she'd got a standing ovation—but in her opinion, there'd been a number of unforgivable little glitches, that the audience hadn't really noticed. She'd been distracted, her equilibrium destroyed. It had been a most unsettling feeling, especially when tackling 35 minutes of everything Tchaikovsky could throw at you.

She didn't care about the blonde surgeon. She was most probably never going to see her again—after today—but she was most certainly going to let her know what she thought of her before she left Seattle. Her flight left for New York that evening, and she had some time to herself this morning. She resolved to make another visit to Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital.

A thump at her hotel room door shook her out of her thoughts.

"Callie!" called Addison's voice, "Time to be up and doing!"

Callie rolled her eyes and went to the door, opening it to let Addison in.

"Addie. I have a free morning for once. What do I have to be 'doing?'" she asked, as her friend strode past her and turned to give her a trademark _look_. This meant Addison was standing in the middle of the room in one her perfectly tailored designer suits, not a red hair out of place, delicately curved eyebrows reaching for her hairline while her green eyes openly sent the message 'Addison is judging you.'

"You do not have a free morning. You said you'd do a masterclass at the conservatory, remember?"

Callie groaned in frustration. She was so not in the mood to teach today. "Oh God, Addie. Do I have to? Can't you say I've got chicken pox or something?" she whined. "One day. Just one day is all I'm asking for!"

"It's just a couple of hours. Then you have a few more to relax before your flight this evening. Good job last night, by the way." Addison cocked her head to a side, waiting for the inevitable response.

Callie snorted derisively. "If by that you mean good job re-writing Tchaikovsky, then I guess you can congratulate me."

Addison was no musician, but years with her friend had clued her into the fact that she was not quite at the top of her game last night. "Was it the psycho tulip-killer?" she asked sympathetically. "Don't give her another thought. She's not worth it. Come on, you've got budding pianists to mentor."

"Fine. Let's go then. But I've got one stop to make on the way."

XXX

"I really, really think this is a bad idea. Please Callie, can't you just let it go?"

Despite everything Addison had said to dissuade her from going back to SGMW, Callie had been adamant. Addison knew her friend was hot-headed and impulsive, and it was virtually impossible to deter her once she got the bit between her teeth. Addison could tell she was in a rotten mood, and not only because she was dissatisfied with her performance last night. Deny it as she might, the doctor she had so graphically described had gotten under her skin, and Callie was ready to spit nails that her magnanimous gesture had been so rudely rejected.

They walked into SGMW; Callie as if she owned the place, (as was her way when she went anywhere), and Addison trailing along behind, wishing she could dig a hole and disappear into it. They had no idea where to go.

"Do you know what kind of a doctor she is?" asked Addison, from the corner of her mouth.

"A surgeon—and why are you talking like that?"

"It looks like the kind of place where people don't raise their voices…and I guess I'm whispering because I wish I were someplace else." Then, having digested Callie's reply, she rolled her eyes. "What kind of surgeon?"

"I don't know," was the helpful response. "Put your considerable managerial skills to the test, and find out, Addie, please?"

Addison hissed in exasperation. "God, you are impossible. I'm only doing this because I want to get out of here as soon as possible. She looked around, and spotted, waiting for the elevator, a diminutive doctor in dark blue scrubs, whose tiny frame exuded huge attitude and presence. Addison walked up to her.

"Excuse me, would you know where I can find Doctor Robbins?"

The woman looked Addison up and down, and then asked, suspiciously, "Who's asking?"

"Oh, um… well my friend over there," she pointed at Callie, who waggled her fingers in an awkward wave, "is a concert pianist, and wanted to personally thank Dr. Robbins for the flowers she sent her yesterday."

"I wouldn't have thought Robbins could tell a piano from a hole in the ground…" the doctor muttered, giving Addison another hard stare, as if trying to decide if she was safe. Then she said, "She's in Peds. Third floor."

"Thank you, Dr…um…" Addison looked at the name on the doctor's lab coat. "…Bailey."

"Sure," said Dr Bailey as she got on the elevator, and held the button to keep the doors open. "I'm heading there myself, I'll take you."

"Thanks! Hey, Callie!" Addison called her over. "She's in Peds."

"She's a pediatrician?" asked Callie as she got into the elevator. Somehow, that didn't seem right.

"Pediatric _Surgeon_," corrected Bailey. "Very different thing." She was silent for the rest of the ride up to the third floor.

Bailey indicated a set of double doors to their right as they got off the elevator, telling them they should find Robbins "somewhere in there," while she turned to the left and hurried off down the corridor.

"Are you sure you still want to do this, Callie? The woman is busy healing sick children…shall we just let her be?" Addison pleaded.

"I'm not going to cause a scene, Addie. I just have a _feeling_…and I want to talk to her."

They walked through the double doors that led to the Peds ward, and right into the middle of an interesting scene. Callie spotted her quarry at once, standing close to the nurse's station, a mutinous expression on her lovely face, and right beside her, another terrified young doctor in light blue scrubs. They were being castigated by an older man, who looked as if his eyeballs would pop out of his head any minute.

"Dr. Robbins, what part of 'call social services' did you not understand?" he shouted, glaring at Arizona, while she stared back at him defiantly.

"Dr. Stark, the kid is not being neglected," piped up the young resident beside her. "His mother's been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and—"

"—And I don't want to hear about it, Dr. Grey. If the kid has a hygroma that is obstructing his airway, then even moderately intelligent human beings, such as yourselves, can deduce that he IS, in fact, being neglected."

"But Dr. Stark, the boy has—" Arizona began, and was cut off once again.

"Dr. Robbins. I am not a monster, as much as you may like to think I am. I can sympathize with this family's situation, but as a doctor, I have to think about the patient first. Now I suggest you reign in that bleeding heart of yours and act like the professional you've been trained to be. Listen to me VERY carefully, I will say this only once more. Call—social—services."

He turned to leave, and then tossed over his shoulder, "Dr. Robbins, you can have the pleasure of dealing with the parents when the social worker arrives."

The two doctors stared at the retreating form of Dr. Stark, incredulously.

"The man's an ass," were the words that fell from the blonde's lips as he left. The nervous brunette beside her nodded in agreement.

"Then you shouldn't have trouble dealing with him," were the first words that came out of Callie's lips. "They do say like will to like."

Damn. She had wanted to keep her cool, but somehow seeing Arizona Robbins sparked off something inside her, and her volatile temper flared up.

Addison shuddered in anticipation, and took a good look at the woman who had got her friend more agitated than she had seen her in years. The blonde was pretty in an almost picture-perfect kind of way. Her golden hair, perfect proportions, flawless skin and cobalt eyes made her look like she'd stepped out of a book of fairytales. Addison could see where Callie's thoughtless Barbie reference had come from. She was feisty, however, from what Addison had seen of the brief altercation with her superior, and the clean cut of her jaw and decisive chin, not to mention the depth and character of those eyes, and firm set of her mouth belied the soft exterior she presented. She looked to be the type of woman you didn't want to mess with.

The blonde's eyes snapped up at the sound of Callie's voice, and an expression very like pleasure seemed to flit across her face before the words registered. Her brilliant eyes clouded over then, and she pressed her lips together as if to bite back a retort.

"Ms. Torres…I didn't—" she began, and then stopped. The nurse at the station behind her seemed to prick up her ears when she heard Arizona address Callie, and she turned her head to stare curiously.

"You didn't what?" asked Callie. "Didn't think you could be big enough to accept an apology? Didn't have the decency to realize that receiving a 'gift' like that could have upset me just before I went on stage?"

Addison saw the blonde's eyes flicker quickly up to Callie's in dismay.

"Ms. Torres, I wasn't…" She tried again, only to be cut short by Callie, who seemed to be on a roll now.

"I meant every word I said in my note. I even understand if you couldn't forgive me—but did you have to throw my apology in my face like that? You wouldn't ever have had to see me again, did you really need to demonstrate how completely you held me in contempt?" Callie's voice shook a little, and the blonde on the receiving end stared back, apparently struck dumb.

"Still nothing?" Callie continued. "I thought you seemed like a reasonable person, but you know what? I've come to the conclusion that you're a bitch, and I'm glad our paths will never cross again." She turned as she finished her dramatic little rant, and walked out. Addison paused for a moment, almost feeling sorry for the woman who stood staring after Callie, a pained and rather dejected look on her face. Then she too, turned and followed her friend, shaking her head at how right she had been in telling Callie that this had not been a good idea.

Leaning against the nurse's counter, Arizona hung her head in defeat. It had been a perfect day in a perfect year. Just absolutely stunningly marvelous. She brought her thumb and middle finger to the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes. 'Just two hours more,' she thought. 'Two more hours, and you're out of here. You can hold it together till then.'

Maggie pursed her lips as she considered the situation. "She's beautiful," she told Arizona approvingly. "But you've got a tigress by the tail there."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much, everyone, for the really encouraging comments! Your response to this story as been awesome. I hope you continue to like it!**

Arizona knew nothing about classical music. She could appreciate a good tune, of course, and had a pretty good sense of rhythm, but that's about as far as it went. When it came to music in the more abstract sense, she was worse than useless. Put her in front of an orchestra, and she would be snoring in minutes. So what was she doing at the Avery Fischer Hall at the Lincoln Center, listening to the New York Philharmonic? And why was she still awake? It _might_ have been the beautiful music that held her spellbound, but in truth, it was the breathtakingly gorgeous soloist that kept Arizona's eyes wide open. It had been 30 minutes since she started to play, and Arizona had barely blinked.

Beside her, Teddy Altman groaned and closed her eyes, wriggling restlessly in her seat. "How much longer?" she whispered, too loudly, "I've done CABGs faster than this." The people sitting in front of them turned around and glared disapprovingly. Arizona shushed her with a quick pinch on the arm.

"Be quiet, Teddy," she whispered, "I think it's almost done." And sure enough, the music was reaching a massive crescendo. The figure at the huge Steinway in front of the orchestra seemed to draw on some hidden reserve of strength as she bent over the keyboard, fingers flying from one end to the other at a dizzying speed, the muscles in her forearms tensed and flexed with her exertions, and her face almost fierce in its concentration. When the tension had built to an almost unbearable point, she brought her hands down dramatically on the final crashing chords, and the hall reverberated with their force in the short silence that followed. Then the audience was on its feet, and a storm of applause erupted around Arizona.

She wondered if they too should stand and applaud. They were glared at again, as the enthusiastic music lovers all around them noticed that there were two philistines in their midst, who didn't think the soloist was worth standing up for. Noticing the black looks being cast at them, Arizona pulled Teddy to her feet.

"What the hell, Arizona? You drag me to this snooze-fest, where I have to watch you drool like a hormonal teenage boy—yes, really—and now I'm supposed to ask for an encore?" All around them, there were calls of "encore!" and "Bravo!" as the audience begged for more.

"Shut _up_, Teddy. You're making people stare," Arizona hissed. The audience continued to clap, and the soloist came out several times to take her bows, and finally, almost reluctantly sat down at the piano again. Arizona couldn't help but stare at how different she looked when she was smiling. Calliope Torres had a smile that could light up the city.

Teddy sat down moodily. "Now see what you've done. She's going to play _again_, as if she hasn't been playing for the last forty minutes."

"Since we've been playing Rachmaninov this evening," began Callie, addressing the audience, "I would like to leave you with his version of Mendelssohn's _Scherzo_ from A Midsummer Night's Dream." She then launched into the most scintillating piece of music Arizona had ever heard. It looked fiendishly difficult too, and she watched wide eyed as the notes seemed to simply pour in effortless rills from the hands of the woman on stage. That kind of technical skill must have been very hard come by.

The piece came to its electrifying conclusion, and the audience erupted in applause again. Callie accepted the adulation graciously, giving the audience that brilliant smile and then turning around to acknowledge the orchestra. She was wearing some filmy, shimmery kind of black material that hugged her curves closely to the waist and then fell in soft drapes to her feet. The gown had one thin strap that came over one shoulder, and left her arms and neck, and the other shoulder bare. The exposed honey-toned skin glowed under the lights, and her hair shone almost blue-black down her back.

"You're gaping," Teddy said dryly, as she looked sideways at her friend. Arizona coloured faintly, but said nothing. She watched, unblinking, until Callie Torres took her final bow and left the stage.

As the clapping died down slowly, the audience started to make its way out of the hall. Arizona shuffled out with everyone else, Teddy in tow, and thought about how completely crazy she was to have come for the concert at all.

It had been just over two months since Callie Torres had called Arizona a bitch and stalked out of the Peds ward in a temper. Arizona had wanted to go after her then, and shake the stupid out of her. To tell her she was sorry she had cut up her beautiful flowers. To make her see that she was infuriating and entitled and a snarky bitch herself, and at the same time tell her that she had never meant to upset her before her performance. There were so many warring emotions in her breast that she eventually did nothing, staying rooted to the spot, and listening to Maggie ramble on about how musicians were a special brand of crazy, and that she had better get used to it if she was bent on pursuing 'that one.'

The weeks that followed had seen life at SGMW settle down a bit for Arizona. Dr. Stark, true to form, had done his best to run her off her feet, but she had been coping. She had made an effort to get to know her fellow surgeons better, and had forged alliances with Bailey, and of all unlikely people, Mark Sloan. She had found that underneath his veneer of crass immaturity, he was actually a nice guy, and that his overt chauvinism was just a façade. Life was settling down into a comfortable routine, and she was happy. Almost. There was just that niggling _thing_ that wouldn't let go of her…that leaped into her mind, unbidden, at the most inappropriate times, and haunted her dreams every night. The fiery name-calling Latina.

Calliope Torres was just a little glitch in the past, she kept telling herself. Arizona was going to erase the memory of the beautiful firebrand, and get on with life. Be a great doctor. Tolerate Robert Stark. Save the tiny humans. Callie was not worth her time, not worth another thought, she lectured herself sternly. She was spoilt, temperamental, unreasonable, most probably unavailable, inaccessible…she lived on the other side of the continent, for goodness' sake…and….she was also totally, _totally_ unforgettable.

Arizona knew that Callie's tour of Europe had been immensely successful, and that she was now back in New York. She owed her information to Maggie, who had _accidentally_ left a news clipping out on the counter of the nurse's station in plain view, for anybody who _might_ be interested. She had watched in amusement as Arizona, feigning disinterest, had greedily scanned the article and gazed for long seconds at the woman pictured there.

"Oh, Dr. Robbins," she had said, seeing Arizona peruse the article. "Aren't you going to New York for a medical conference next week?"

"Yup," said Arizona absently, still looking at the picture. "So are quite a few others—Dr. Sloan, Dr. Altman, Dr. Webber…" her voice trailed off as she looked up at the nurse. "Why do you ask?"

Maggie leaned back in her chair and turned her face to her computer. "Oh, I was just reading here, that the New York Philharmonic is giving a concert the weekend you're going to be there," she said, casually.

"O..kay? The New York Phil gives concerts all the time, Maggie. What's special about this one?" Arizona wondered where the nurse was heading with this line of conversation. "Besides, I know diddly-squat about classical music. Wild horses couldn't drag me to a concert," she finished decisively.

Maggie eyed her, smiling smugly. "Wild horses probably couldn't," she said, "But how about the turbulent Ms. Torres?"

Arizona flushed bright red. "I don't want to have anything to do with her, Maggie."

Maggie went on as if she hadn't heard. "It says here she's going to be appearing as soloist, on the Saturday you're scheduled to be in New York. And she's playing Rach…Rachmy…um, some Russian composer."

"I don't care if she is playing the Hallelujah Chorus. I'm not going."

"I'm just _saying_," said Maggie. "Because you seem to like her."

"Like her? _Like_ her? I'd find it easier to like a root canal," said Arizona, walking away from the annoying nurse.

"Methinks the doctor doth protest too much," observed Maggie, when Arizona was safely out of earshot.

But the little seed of information had taken root, and Arizona found herself thinking more and more about taking Maggie's advice. Maybe she _should_ go to the concert—see Callie Torres in her natural habitat, so to speak, and when Arizona fell asleep, as she usually did the moment an orchestra began to play, she'd realize that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the pianist who'd been occupying her thoughts of late.

So she had cajoled Teddy Altman into sitting through almost two hours of orchestral music, and Teddy, being a good friend, had given in, suspecting that there was something behind the blonde's sudden interest in classical music. Arizona's sudden and rapt attention the moment the soloist walked onstage had clued Teddy in almost immediately.

The piano concerto had taken up the last forty minutes of the concert, and Arizona hadn't fallen asleep—at least, not when Callie was playing. She'd watched, and listened enthralled, as the woman at the piano had seemed to communicate each phrase, each subtle emotion, as if she were speaking to her in person. It was absolutely magical, and she had not been bored, dammit! She was, if anything, more intrigued than ever.

Now, standing by the fountain outside the concert hall, they waited for Mark Sloan to join them before they went out together.

"So how do you know the hot Latina?" asked Teddy. Arizona opened her mouth to deny any knowledge of the pianist, but Teddy didn't give her a chance. "Don't bother denying it—you couldn't tear your eyes away from her, and I _know_ you didn't come for the love of Rachmaninov!"

With a resigned sigh, Arizona filled Teddy in on her previous encounters with Callie, while her friend listened on in amusement. Teddy was sympathetic, but unhelpful.

"So, this woman is arrogant, entitled, bad tempered, and probably straight, and you've been pining for her since she insulted you in front of your department and high-tailed it out of there?"

"I don't pine," said Arizona, annoyed. "And…yeah, I think you've pretty much got the gist of it."

"I just don't get why we're torturing ourselves with piano concertos, though."

"Well, I just thought I'd be able to get her out of my system, you know? If I saw her do her thing, and found I couldn't stand it."

"And?"

"She's freaking awesome."

Teddy laughed at how dejected Arizona looked as she said this. She glanced at her watch. "Mark is late, the jerk, and I'm getting cold out here."

Arizona pulled her jacket tighter around her. It was early November, and though the weather had been pretty nice, the evening was turning a little chilly. By the steps of the concert hall she noticed a small huddle of people, and here and there a few remaining concert-goers, but no Mark. Some of the orchestra members had started to come out and disperse; a woman walked by pulling a cello, and several violinists went past them, casually chatting. The group by the hall steps had broken up, and a few of them were walking in her direction, laughing loudly at something that the woman in their midst was saying. Arizona paid them no more attention until they were standing close to her and Teddy at the fountain. Then she gasped as Teddy's elbow dug suddenly into her ribs.

"Ow! What the hell, Teddy?" she exclaimed in pained surprise. At the sound of her voice, some of the group standing near them looked around, and one of them, in particular stared in disbelief.

"Isn't that your girl?" hissed Teddy out of the corner of her mouth. "Don't look right awa—" but it was too late.

Arizona swung round, and found herself looking into the equally astonished face of Calliope Torres.

Everything else seemed to fade into the distance as she looked at Callie, and for what seemed like months, or years, neither of them spoke. The group surrounding Callie had gone quiet. Arizona wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. The last person who should know she'd come for this concert was now standing in front of her, fully aware that she'd been there.

Finally, Callie took a step forward. "Dr. Robbins?" she said, her voice dying in her throat.

Arizona felt Teddy's hand shove her from behind, and she stepped towards the brunette. "Uh. Yeah. H-Hi." '_That was eloquent_,' she told herself. '_Words, Arizona. Make words._'

Callie took another step forward. She had put off her formal concert attire for a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, and looked so down-to-earth and unlike the glamorous diva that Arizona had seen so far, that she had trouble believing her eyes.

"You came…for _this_ concert?" Callie asked, gesturing at the hall behind her. Arizona nodded.

"You heard me play?" The brunette came even closer, and still the little group of people around them watched in silence. "You came to hear _me_?" Her voice was low, a little uncertain.

Arizona nodded again. Dammit, where was her voice? She closed her eyes, waiting for the other woman to accuse her of being a weirdo stalker. However, the next words out of the brunette's mouth were a soft "What did you think?"

Arizona had no idea how to describe the performance. She had no vocabulary that was appropriate, and how do you tell someone they took your breath away without it sounding like a bad pick-up line? She cleared her throat.

"Not too shabby," she said with a little smile, and Callie saw for the first time, a hint of the cutest dimples.

Callie had never had one of her performances described in those terms before, and the cheeky statement might have angered her, coming from anyone else. But from what she had experienced of this particular individual, she knew she was never going to get a conventional response. She threw her head back and laughed.

It seemed to dissipate some of the tension that had communicated itself to their friends, and conversations resumed around them. Teddy watched from a safe distance, grinning at her friend's sudden, inexplicable awkwardness.

"I'm honored, Dr. Robbins," said Callie. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"Well, I do think the _Allegro ma whatever con carn_e was a little too fast for my taste," said Arizona in her most pretentious voice, and that made Callie laugh again.

"Con carne?" she asked, still smiling. "You must tell me about it in more detail," she said, "and then maybe I can improve on it the next time I play Rachmaninov." Her face grew serious. "May I talk to you? Please?" She reached out and touched Arizona's forearm. Arizona was about to respond when Mark's voice interrupted them rudely.

"Hey Blondie!" he called out loudly, "You going to keep us waiting all night? Either bring hot-stuff over there and come along or put us out of our misery!"

Arizona turned around, furious. "Mark!" she hissed. "You kept us waiting for twenty minutes, now give me a _second_!"

Callie looked over to where Mark and Teddy were standing, and smiled. "I recognize your friend."

"Yeah, that's Mark Sloan," said Arizona dismissively.

"Callie," one of the group of people Callie had been with came up to them. She was an attractive redhead, and Arizona got the feeling she'd seen her before. "Are you coming out with us, or are you going to stand here and stare at Dr. Robbins a little longer?... Hi," she said turning to Arizona and holding out her hand, which Arizona shook politely. "I'm Addison Montgomery. We haven't really met officially, but I was present when my friend over here," she patted Callie's arm, "lost her cool in your Peds ward and called you a b—"

"Addison!" The brunette sounded mortified. "Would you just back off, and give me a minute!"

She turned back to Arizona. "We seem to be blessed with friends with a genius for the inappropriate," she said, apologetically. She put her hand on Arizona's forearm once again. "Like I was saying… can I speak to you? Would you give me a couple of minutes?" she asked earnestly.

"Y-yeah. Sure. I have something I want to tell you as well," responded Arizona, looking down at where Callie's hand lay on her arm, and then back up to the brown eyes that were looking at her solemnly. They stayed like that for a while, neither being able to form the words that needed to be said.

"Oh. My. God." Addison came up to them again, saying impatiently, "Get a room, or get going!"

Teddy and Mark approached almost simultaneously. Mark pulled out his wallet and plucked two twenties out. Taking Arizona's free hand, he stuffed the bills into it, and closed her fingers in a fist around the notes. "Here, this is all I can spare. Take her out for goodness sake."

He looked at Addison. "What do you say we let the kids out for a little while huh?"

"I was just about to suggest that," said Addison, eyeing Mark appreciatively. "We were just going out for a drink…like to join us?"

Teddy groaned inwardly. There was no way Mark was going to say no to the sexy redhead. She leaned in close to Arizona before they left, and whispered in her ear, "Don't say I never did nothin' for ya!"

Arizona watched her friends' retreating figures with something like dread coiling in her tummy. She was now alone with her tigress, and she had no idea how to proceed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your lovely comments and suggestions! You really inspire me to update. And yes, as one 'guest' has noticed, I **_**am**_** a lover of classical music, being a musician myself. Don't worry, though, I won't be filling this story with a whole lot of musical references. I know that it's not everyone's cup of tea.**

Callie looked into the slightly apprehensive blue gaze that was fixed on her, and felt those butterflies begin a spirited tango in her tummy. Why was she feeling something very like stage fright? She searched her mind for the right words, and found there was really no good way to start. She was terribly ashamed of the way she'd behaved towards the doctor, and hadn't needed Addison's lectures on the subject of reigning in her temper and acting her age to realize that she had been out of line. It didn't help that she hadn't been able to get the image of Dr. Robbins out of her head for two months. Now here she was, looking absolutely delectable and also a little scared, standing in front of Callie when she had never really expected to see her again.

"Please don't look at me like that—I'm not going to yell at you again," said Callie, tightening her hold on the blonde's arm.

"Well you could hardly expect me to believe that, if our previous encounters are anything to go by," responded Arizona, smiling sweetly, but showing her claws.

"Touché," Callie held up a hand, conceding a point. "I guess I deserve that." She let her hand slide down the arm she was holding, and boldly took possession of Arizona's hand.

Arizona thought the brunette was amazingly forward, but strangely, made no attempt to get her hand back.

"Look, there's no good way to say this—but I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I acted like an ass," said Callie, clasping the captive hand and squeezing. "I've been thinking about my horrible behavior for months—I really can't apologize enough for what I said. Addison says I've been over-indulged all my life, and I can't take rejection—and I know this doesn't excuse my behavior, but would you—I mean, could you please…"

Arizona listened in silence as the self-possessed Callie Torres lost her poise and got tangled up in a mess of fragmented sentences. She made no effort to stop her, gazing at her patiently till the embarrassed brunette ran out of steam. She was so intent on observing the mobile mouth, the expressive eyes fringed with long, dark eyelashes, the perfectly even white teeth of the woman in front of her, that she hadn't realized that Callie had stopped speaking.

"… so…I guess that's a no, huh?" said Callie, looking at her sadly. She had just begged the blonde to forgive her, and Arizona had not responded.

"What?..." Arizona mentally rewound the brunette's last sentence. "Oh! … You're not totally to blame, Ms. Torres. I know I provoked you. I know this is no excuse, but I was having a bad day. A bad year, really. The flowers were so beautiful, too. If it means anything to you, I did try to get that delivery stopped—but it was too late. I'm really, _really_ sorry that it reached you just before your performance. That I sent it _at all_. I feel like a cow—especially having seen what you do. It must have been upsetting."

"That's an understatement. You metaphorically punched me in the gut before I went onstage." Callie's eyebrows drew together as she remembered that night's performance.

"And you referred to me as a mindless toy, and stereotyped me by my looks. Something I've had to deal with since high school." Arizona tried not to let her voice betray her indignation, but didn't succeed very well. Damn, the Barbie reference got her every time.

Callie's eyes softened sympathetically. "I know. I don't know why I said that—I can be a real bitch sometimes." She tugged on Arizona's hand again. "Please say you'll forgive me."

"If you can do the same for me."

"Consider it done," said Callie, smiling broadly and dazzling her companion a little.

"Would you like to have a drink to seal the deal?" Arizona asked, trying to sound cool and unconcerned, and privately hoping the brunette would not refuse.

"I'd love to—but…"

"Oh, that's ok—you probably want to join your friends," Arizona rushed in, trying to hide her disappointment.

"No, that's not what I was going to say," said Callie, who had been only too happy to see her friends leave. "Personally, I was thrilled to see them go," she said with her characteristic frankness, and was rewarded with a smile that brought two fascinating dimples out in force. "I was just going to suggest that we get something to eat, because I'm starving."

"Oh—well, I'm kind of hungry too," said Arizona, tilting her head slightly when she noticed Callie was looking at her as if she was seeing something quite novel.

"Dimples," said the brunette, her filter (never very reliable) not working at all. She realized what she'd said and colored under her tan. "Um…they're cute," she finished, feeling foolish.

Arziona's smile widened, which only made the dimples more apparent, and her eyes glinted mischievously. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Shall we, then, Dr. Robbins?" asked Callie, ducking her head to acknowledge the compliment, and also to hide a pleased smirk. "I know a great place that's not too far away."

"Oh, you can call me Arizona. After all, we've been quite comfortable with insulting each other, so I think we ought to be able to drop the formalities, don't you?" Arizona looked down at her hand, which the brunette hadn't relinquished yet. "Besides, you have been holding my hand for quite a while now, and I think that should give me leave to call you Calliope."

Callie opened her mouth to correct her, but decided she liked the way her given name fell from Arizona's lips. Instead, she raised the hand she'd been holding, and asked, "Can I keep this?"

Arizona found the request rather endearing—Callie seemed wholly unconscious of any awkwardness, and was nothing if not direct. Arizona had learned that much about her already. She also felt that one of her questions about the brunette had been answered. She acquiesced, and this time, it was she who felt butterflies begins to dance inside her as Callie led her off down the street.

XXX

"So… do you play an instrument?" asked Callie as they waited for their food to arrive. She had brought them to a little Italian restaurant on Columbus Avenue, cozy and atmospheric, and not too busy. Callie was curious as to what had brought Arizona to her concert.

"No, I don't—the only instrument I pick up regularly is a scalpel," said Arizona. "I really don't know anything about classical music—I wouldn't know one end of a piano concerto from the other. I _do_ know, however, that you were simply incredible."

Callie gave her a skeptical look. "You just said you didn't know anything about it."

"Well, look at it this way—I didn't fall asleep," said Arizona proudly.

Callie was somewhat taken aback. That was the second time tonight that Arizona had said something about her performance that sounded outrageous. She was used to extravagant praise, and occasionally the odd criticism of her passionate style, but no-one had ever expected her to take as a compliment the fact that they had not fallen asleep during her performance.

"Er…thanks, I think?" she said, giving the blonde a puzzled look.

"Oh, please don't be offended! It's just that I fall asleep the minute I sit down in front of an orchestra—yeah, I'm sorry, but it's true—but I barely blinked right through your performance. That tells me there was something really special about it. You know, there were parts, especially in the slow bit in the middle—"

"It's called the second movement," Callie offered with a smile.

"Yeah, that—there were bits of it that felt like you were actually speaking. Saying something really sad," said Arizona, trying to explain what the music had made her feel. "You must think I'm an idiot."

"Not at all. It makes me feel I've achieved something, really. It's easy to play to an audience that knows its subject. It's much more challenging to communicate with someone who might not understand your vocabulary. Do you see what I'm trying to say?"

Arizona nodded, her eyes twinkling. "You're saying we speak the same language, even though I can only manage a few words of pidgin, and you're like, um, Shakespeare."

Callie laughed out loud at that. Arizona certainly had a way of expressing herself. "How come you came for my concert if you're not really into classical music?" she asked.

Arizona regarded her companion thoughtfully. How do you tell someone you wanted to get them out of your system? How to admit they'd been taking up your thoughts? She shrugged, and decided to gloss over it with a teasing "Just curious I suppose. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." She smiled disarmingly at the brunette.

"If I spend much more time with you, I'm not going to have any self-esteem left," said Callie, half-serious. "In your considered opinion, Dr. Robbins, is the fuss warranted?"

"Now you're fishing for compliments," returned Arizona, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "I've already told you that I thought you were awesome. Not that the opinion of a complete ignoramus counts, anyway."

"It counts," said Callie, fascinated by the way her companion's eyes seemed to catch the light and sparkle. "You have the most beautiful eyes," she blurted out, "They're changing constantly."

"You're studying my eyes?"

"Well, they're right in front of me, aren't they?" Callie tried to sound like she hadn't just said the cheesiest thing. She wasn't usually this inept. "People must tell you that all the time."

"Not as often as you imagine," said Arizona, thinking that Carly had never bothered to tell her anything of the sort.

"I find that hard to believe."

"You're flirting," accused Arizona, secretly quite pleased.

"I'm _trying_," said Callie with a laugh. "I'm obviously not very good at it."

"Oh, I think you're better than you think you are."

"I'm not even sure if it's appropriate, in your case," said Callie, looking directly at Arizona, a question in her eyes.

Arizona was puzzled for a moment, wondering what the brunette meant, and then it dawned on her that Callie was, in her forthright way, asking if she was receptive to the advances of women. She was charmed by the lack of tact Callie displayed, the way she dispensed with the polite little dance-around-the- issue and got to the point. She returned the brunette's searching gaze, and smiled.

"Calliope, I let you hold my hand all the way from the concert hall to this restaurant. If that doesn't tell you something, you must be rather…well…_dim_."

Callie's smile seemed to light up the room. She said nothing, merely shaking her head in denial. "Not dim by any means. Just…er, what are you doing?"

She broke off and gazed in consternation at Arizona, who was shielding her eyes as if they hurt.

"Your smile ought to come with a warning. Caution: extremely bright, do not provoke unless equipped with protective gear."

Callie laughed delightedly. "Now who's being cheesy?"

"Oh, you're doing it again," protested Arizona.

"Come off it," said Callie, reaching across the table and pulling Arizona's hand away from her eyes. "Of all the infantile, immature, uncool things…I'm severely disappointed in you."

Arizona wasn't deceived by the brunette's tone, and looked back at her quite serenely. "I work with children, you know. So infantile is a state I'm pretty familiar with."

They sat there talking for hours. Their food came and went—they ate barely noticing what they put in their mouths—they ordered dessert, and then coffee, consuming an almost toxic amount of caffeine as time slipped away from them. Finally, one of the waiters coughed politely beside Callie, and she looked away from Arizona for the first time in hours. They were the only ones left there, and the restaurant was closing.

Arizona felt a sense of regret settle in her chest. She had to catch an early flight, and would have to get back to her hotel soon.

"I'm glad I got the chance to really speak to you," she said quietly, as they walked out of the restaurant. They had been so caught up in their conversation that she hadn't told Callie she was leaving in a few hours.

"Me too. When do you get back to Seattle? Can I interest you in lunch tomorrow?" asked Callie hopefully.

"My flight leaves in a few hours Calliope, I'm sorry."

"Oh."

Arizona saw the disappointment flash through the brunette's eyes, and heard the controlled lack of inflection in her response.

"Can I take you back to your hotel, then?" Callie asked, with a strained smile, hailing a cab as she spoke.

"I'd like that."

They sat in the back seat of the cab, an awkward silence now taking the place of the easy banter that had flowed between them. Callie looked out of the window moodily, her insides in turmoil. She had not been mistaken in that instant connection, that feeling of recognition she'd felt the very first time she saw the blonde. That feeling had only intensified over the last few hours, and now she was going to have to say goodbye without ever knowing what it might have come to.

Arizona saw the emotions flit across Callie's face. Her feelings always seemed so close to the surface, her face as readable as an open book. She reached between them, picking up Callie's hand from where it lay between them on the seat.

"Can I have this for a little while?" she asked, just as Callie had done a few hours ago.

Callie turned to look at her as Arizona laced their fingers together.

"This sucks," she said succinctly.

"It really, really does," said Arizona.

They stared at each other in silence, each of them realizing that a continent and very different lives separated them. That this was all it could ever amount to between them.

XXX

"What do you mean, you didn't get her number?" asked Mark indignantly. "We left you alone all night with all that hotness, and you didn't get her number?"

"Shut it, Mark," said Arizona. "And snag me another Vodka when that flight attendant comes back this way."

"Don't you think you've had enough Vodka?" said Teddy. They were sitting in a row of three seats, Mark and Teddy on either side of Arizona. They were proving to be extremely trying travel companions.

"No more Vodka for you, Blondie. What, did the smoking hot concert pianist do something to piss you off again?"

"No she didn't. She was…it's difficult to explain. I haven't met anyone like her. She comes off as cool and confident, but really, she has a tendency to shoot her mouth off. She just says whatever comes into her head. It was really kind of sweet."

"Sweet?" asked Teddy incredulously. "This is the woman who you described as an arrogant shrew?"

"Yeah." Arizona pressed her fingers to her temples. "The arrogant shrew is really frickin sweet, and I didn't ask for her number because…what would I do, Teddy? Call her up and ask her to fly to Seattle to go out for dinner with me? Tell her to cancel her concert in Boston so that we can grab coffee between my surgeries?"

"You're being dramatic, Arizona. If you like her so much…"

"I didn't say that."

"It's as plain as the nose on your face."

"Teddy, we live at opposite ends of the country. She's away half the time, her concert schedule is hectic. My job ties me to Seattle. Do you see this going anywhere? I don't. She's not someone I can be friends with."

"Why not?" Teddy stared in confusion.

"It would never be enough. Never."

"I'll get you that Vodka."

XXX

_**New York, two days later**_

Addison observed her friend closely as they sat in Callie's apartment, discussing her upcoming performances in Boston, and her schedule thereafter. Callie had been quiet, a little pensive. Her expressive eyes were rather stormy, and Addison had learned to read the danger signs.

"What's up, Cal?" she asked.

Callie looked up listlessly from a score she'd been pretending to study. "Nothing…why?"

"You've been a little quiet lately. Anything bothering you?"

"Nope. I'm fine. I'm good. Just perfect, really," said Callie, doodling on the score. "I just can't wait to go to Boston. And then fly to LA. I'm all over this Brahms."

"Allright," Addison sat down by her friend. "Either tell me what's eating you, or stop moping around like a three-toed sloth with constipation."

Callie was startled. "What? How do you even know what a three-toed sloth is? Let alone its bathroom habits?"

"I have hidden depths," said Addison, giving Callie's arm a friendly punch. "Now spill."

"I have nothing to spill. I guess I'm just tired of living out of a suitcase, Addie. Of the never-ending succession of hotel rooms and concert halls."

Addison was quiet, for a few moments, digesting what Callie had said. She'd never heard her friend express discontent with her lifestyle before.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked. "From the time you were…what, eight years old? What you've worked your butt off for, for most of your life; practiced eight hours a day for?"

"It is. I'm not complaining. I just need to slow down sometimes, you know? Take a break. Maybe consider a spending an entire day—or weekend—without practising."

Addison continued to stare at Callie. Take a break from practice? In all the years she'd known the pianist, she'd never once complained about her practice schedule.

"Seriously Callie, are you feeling ok?"

Callie closed her score with a snap. "I'm just peachy, Addison."

Addison gave up. "Fine; don't tell me." She got up and stalked to the door.

"Addie, wait!" Callie said the words as if they'd been wrung out of her against her will. Addison stopped by the door, turning and raising an enquiring eyebrow.

"When do we go to LA?"

"In about two weeks. Why?"

"What am I doing before that?"

"You're going to be in Boston, remember?" said Addison, pulling out Callie's schedule and looking through it. "You're also doing some masterclasses."

"Right. I'd forgotten that…" Callie seemed to debate something internally, eyebrows drawn together in thought. Then she came to a decision.

"I'm not doing the materclasses," she said firmly. "Cancel them, Addie."

"What? I can't just cancel them, Callie!"

"You can. I just need some time for myself. I'm not going to do the masterclasses. I'm going to play the concert in Boston, and then I'm going to stop in Seattle for two days before we head down to LA."

Addison came back into the room slowly, comprehension dawning in her eyes. She scrutinized her friend, who looked back defiantly.

"This is about Dr. Robbins, isn't it?" said Addison, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You've got the hots for the mulch-maker!"

"Her name is _Arizona_. And yes. So cancel those classes Addie."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for continuing to read! Your feedback and comments are really appreciated! **

It had been two weeks since Dr. Robbins came back from New York, and Maggie was beginning to worry about her. When the surgeon had first arrived from Baltimore eight or nine months ago, she had been quiet, self-contained, always polite, but never too forthcoming. Her skill as a surgeon was never in question—she came highly recommended from Johns Hopkins, and had proved herself extremely gifted. She didn't make friends too easily, however, and for months had been quite solitary, not mixing much with anyone but Dr. Altman, with whom she had struck up an easy friendship.

She was very popular with the kids—she had a way with children that Maggie had never seen before in a surgeon. Her patients seemed to hang on her every word, as did their parents, whom she treated with sympathy and respect. She was very quickly a firm favorite in the peds ward, even with the nurses—who, try as they might, could not dig up anything of interest about Dr. Robbins. Maggie had, over the last couple of months, got an inkling about Arizona's private life, but she had a soft corner for the surgeon, and didn't share any of her information with her curious colleagues.

She had been only too pleased to see the rather lonely doctor make friends with the formidable Dr. Bailey. Dr. Bailey's stamp of approval went a long way at SGMW. She was less inclined to approve of Arizona's friendship with the hospital's man-whore Mark Sloan, but knowing what she did about Arizona, Maggie was satisfied that the relationship was purely platonic, and that Arizona was in no danger of getting hurt.

For the last couple of weeks, however, Dr. Robbins seemed to have retreated back into the quiet shell she had inhabited when she first came to Seattle. Since she came back from New York, Maggie noticed that she'd been somewhat distracted. Her usually clear blue gaze was clouded, and her serene features were often marred by a frown. She had taken to staring off into the distance when she had five minutes to herself, and her ready smile was conspicuously absent, only appearing in a rather watered-down form when she was interacting with her patients. Her personality, which had really started to shine a few months earlier, had undergone a change that left her moody and inclined to snap.

Maggie watched as Dr. Robbins made her way out of the Peds ward, on her way to do and Appy on a ten year old, and mulled over the doctor's rather deflated demeanour. Her attention was soon demanded by Dr. Stark, however, and she forgot about the blonde surgeon and her odd behavior.

About an hour and a half after Arizona had left for her Appy, Maggie was sitting at her station, eyes glued to her computer screen, thoroughly absorbed in an article called "Thirty days to be thong-worthy," by a dietician/doctor whose credentials were almost certainly spurious. She was so engrossed in the correct way to eat grapefruit that she didn't realize that someone had walked up to the counter, and was clearing her throat pointedly in order to get her attention.

"Ahem!"

Maggie looked up, and was startled to see the beautiful but rather alarming young woman who had stormed in a few months ago, insulted Dr. Robbins, and stormed out again. It had been almost three months since the incident, and Maggie had seen the woman for all of two minutes then, but hers wasn't a face you forgot easily. It was the stormy Ms. Torres in the flesh, and Maggie had a sneaking suspicion that Arizona's present foul mood had something to do with the woman standing before her.

"Oh! It's you!" were the first words that left Maggie's lips in rather minatory accents.

Callie looked at her, puzzled at her tone of voice. "Hi," she said, with a winning smile, "Do you know where I can find—"

"Oh, no. No no no no," interrupted Maggie, waggling a finger at Callie. "You, young lady, are _persona non grata_ in here."

"What?" The brunette's beautifully arched brows drew together as she tried to decipher what the obviously demented nurse was saying. "Why?"

"I'll give you a moment to reflect on that," returned Maggie, sternly.

"Look, I don't know what you're on about, but I just want to know if I can speak to—"

"Dr. Robbins. Yes, I know," said Maggie.

Callie stared at the nurse. "Are you clairvoyant, or something?" she asked, perfectly seriously.

"Oh, now we know you can be funny _as well as_ rude," said Maggie, looking Callie up and down as if she was reprimanding a naughty child.

The penny finally dropped. Callie realized this nurse must have been there that day when she had come in here and 'had words' with Arizona. She bit her lip in frustration. How was she ever going to get near Arizona if everyone here thought she was some kind of dragon?

"Ma'am, please would you tell me how to find her?" she tried, trying out her most respectful tone.

"It depends," said Maggie, studying the brunette closely. The woman was really rather gorgeous, and today, her face was not screwed up in anger as it had been the last time she saw her. She looked uneasy, and was drumming her fingers on the counter impatiently.

"Depends on what?" asked Callie, feeling as if she had walked into Alice in Wonderland and was being interrogated by the Red Queen.

"It depends on whether you can be civil," said Maggie with a sniff, "Because the last time you were here, you upset Dr. Robbins. Now I don't know what's going on between you two, but—"

"Well, you know, she upset me too," said Callie, feeling that something should be said in her defence.

Maggie stopped and glared at her. "DO you want my help or not?" she asked, fixing a gimlet eye on Callie.

"Yes ma'am. Please. I would really appreciate your assistance. Please, if you would be so kind." Callie's gritted teeth and ironic inflection was not lost on the nurse.

"That sort of behavior is not going to make me tell you any faster," said Maggie, eyeing the brunette who was fast losing her temper. "You need to control your temper, young lady. And apologize to Doctor Robbins."

"You _do_ know that she's the one who turned my apology into pot-pourri, right?" said Callie.

"I'm sure her actions were entirely warranted," returned Maggie staunchly.

"Well, they were not, and for your information, I've already apologized to Dr. Robbins!" Callie raised her voice in annoyance. How much longer were they going to go around and around the issue?

"Tsk. There you go again. See, this is why I'm not sure I should tell you where Dr. Robbins is. You are just going to make her upset—or more upset, I should say, because she's been upset ever since she got back from New York."

Callie paused for a minute, taking in what the nurse had just said. "She has?" she asked, her voice softer. "Upset how?"

"Now, why would I tell you that?"

Callie hissed in annoyance, and decided that there was no point in arguing with the nurse, who seemed bent on thwarting her. She tried one more time.

"Could you please, PLEASE just tell me where I can find Dr. Robbins? I _promise_ I have no dark designs on her, or—"

"Calliope?"

Arizona's astonished voice came from behind her. Callie swung round, and found the person she'd been looking for staring at her in disbelief. Arizona was in dark blue scrubs, and a pink scrub cap covered her hair, which was neatly tucked underneath. She reached up and pulled off the cap, revealing an elaborate arrangement of braids that had been pinned around her head. She took a step forward, a delighted smile coming over her face.

Maggie observed with interest, how the mere presence of the brunette she'd been deliberately teasing all this while, made Arizona's face light up in the first genuine smile she'd seen in two weeks. Callie's mounting temper seemed to fizzle out on the spot.

"H-Hi," she gasped inarticulately.

Arizona took a few steps forward. "Calliope! What—I mean, how-?" She stopped short, gathering her wits. "I thought I head your voice…"

"Not difficult, seeing as she likes to shout," muttered Maggie.

"I—ah, I was in this neck of the woods…um….so I thought I'd drop by," stuttered Callie, scuffing her toe on the tiles and looking down as she clumsily executed her little white lie.

Arizona came a little closer. "I thought you were going to be in Boston?"

"I was, and…um, I've got to be in LA in a couple of days, so I decided to stop en route," Callie explained, looking at Arizona, and hoping the blonde would not see through her.

Maggie regarded the pair over the tops of her glasses. "Geography is not your strong point, apparently," she said with a smirk. "First time I've heard of Seattle being en route to LA."

Callie turned and cast a kindling glance at Maggie. "Arizona, would you please tell your nurse/watchdog/whatever that I'm perfectly safe, and not some axe murderer?" she said, her voice hardening as she remembered the hard time Maggie had been giving her.

Arizona studied the brunette's face for a minute. She looked nervous and irritated, and she was giving Maggie a fulminating glare. Arizona was forcibly reminded of the first time she'd met Callie, and how her temper had seemed to rise like the contents of a violently shaken soda bottle. She'd thought the woman unutterably rude then; now she found it funny. Callie was just a little spoiled, and had never been gainsaid all her life, if the little Arizona knew about her was right.

Arizona closed the small gap between them, coming up to where Callie stood, leaning sideways on the nurse's station, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the counter. The blonde put her hand on the restless fingers, stilling them. "Has Maggie been teasing you, Calliope?" she asked, in a tone so much like the one she used for her favorite patients that Maggie stared at her.

When, she thought to herself, had Dr. Robbins become so familiar with this stormcloud? She watched the brunette visibly calm down, and smile in response to Arizona's teasing tone.

"She's been extremely obstructive, I must say. If you hadn't come in when you did, you might have only recovered smoking remnants of her."

Arizona chuckled, turning to Maggie. "Maggie, Ms. Torres and I have settled our differences…go easy on her, ok?"

Callie looked triumphantly at Maggie. "Told you," she said. "Dr. Robbins thinks I'm awesome now."

"If I remember correctly," said Arizona, "I said your _playing_ was awesome."

"Same thing," said the brunette with a grin.

Maggie gave Arizona a long look. "So you heard her play?...I wonder why you thought of doing that," she said meaningfully.

"Oh, the idea just popped into my head one day," returned Arizona, with a quick wink. Callie watched this little exchange in confusion, and deciding it was not worth trying to understand, claimed the surgeon's attention by tugging on the sleeve of her lab coat.

"So…while I'm in Seattle, is there any chance…" Callie noticed that Maggie was listening in raptly, and turned her back on her pointedly. "…that you'd be free for dinner, tonight?"

Arizona felt her insides do a happy dance. Since saying goodbye to the brunette in front of her hotel in New York two weeks ago, she had wondered if she had done the right thing in not even asking for her number. She did not believe in long distance relationships, but there was something so strong in the pull Callie seemed to exert on her. Even now, however, her heart and her mind pulled in different directions. Her mind told her to beware—this could only end in heartbreak worse than that which Carly had inflicted on her. Her heart seemed not to care that it might end up broken.

Callie watched the emotions chase one another through the eyes of the woman before her. She felt certain she'd seen pleasure in those blue eyes, which had quickly been replaced by doubt, and then something very like fear.

"Calliope, I…" she wavered, wanting more than anything to say yes. Her mind, however, was telling her not to be foolish. The charming Callie Torres would flirt with her today, and leave tomorrow without a care.

"Please." Callie wasn't used to having to plead with someone to go out with her. She felt ridiculous and exposed as she watched the blonde's internal battle.

"Oh, for the love of God! Honey, this poor woman has flown three thousand miles to have dinner with you. Now, do I need to get a map and show you that Seattle in most certainly not a place where people stop on the way to California? Unless they have a very good reason to do so?" Maggie clicked her tongue, impatient with Arizona's dilly-dallying. "She may not be everyone's cup of tea—personally, I'd rather date a keg of gunpowder—but she seems to have gone to extreme lengths to see you for a couple of hours over a meal."

Arizona looked at Maggie, and then back at Callie, who had turned to give Maggie another death glare. "Is that true?" she asked. "Would you say that I'm a very good reason, Calliope?"

Callie seemed to consider the question. "Maybe," she said, and then, abandoning her act, "Actually, you're the _only_ reason."

Arizona felt ridiculously pleased. Callie had come all the way to Seattle for the express purpose of seeing her. Suddenly, her qualms seemed insignificant beside the huge risk the brunette seemed to have taken without a second thought. Why was she denying herself the company of someone with whom she felt such an affinity? Even if it was to be only a few hours, _any_ time spent with Callie would be worth it.

"Calliope," she said, with one of her seraphic smiles. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Doesn't matter how nice it is if you're not going to have dinner with me tonight," said Callie, pouting slightly.

Arizona felt the strongest urge to grab Callie and kiss that pout off her face. There were things about the brunette which Arizona found strange, yet irresistibly attractive. Calliope simply had no concept of polite dissembling. She had been woefully inept at hiding her true reason for being in Seattle, and it hadn't taken long for her to give up the entire pretence. She was the most refreshingly direct person Arizona had ever met.

Arizona felt that an honest answer would serve best. "Calliope, I would love to have dinner with you. Tonight. And if you're still here tomorrow, I would really, really like to spend more time with you."

"Hallelujah! They see the light! That was like pulling teeth!" Maggie commented. Callie turned to her.

"You know, if you weren't the most annoying woman on earth…" the brunette began in a threatening voice, "…I would come back there and HUG you!" she finished, and Maggie felt, for the first time, the magnetic charm of that million-watt smile. "Thank you!"

"All in a day's work," said Maggie, with a shrug. "Now, can I give you two some advice?"

Two faces turned to her inquiringly.

Maggie held up her phone. "This device is used to communicate. I'm sure each of you possesses one. Do each other—and me—a favor, and exchange numbers, for pity's sake!"

XXX

Arizona glanced at the clock. The hands seemed barely to have moved. Her shift ended at 6:00 p.m, and this last half hour seemed to stretch out like days. She had just enough time to get home, get cleaned up and find something decent to wear. Callie was going to pick her up at 7:30, and she simply could not wait to see her. She felt like a giddy teenager when she thought of her date. She'd abandoned her misgivings and decided to embrace the _carpe diem_ philosophy, even if it hurt her later. Calliope certainly seemed to have taken a leap of faith. But then, Calliope struck her as someone who acted first and thought later. She smiled to herself when she thought of the impulsive brunette. Callie was going to make her life terribly complicated—but all she could focus on now was how absolutely right it felt.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out, and grimaced when she saw that it was another text from Carly. Honestly, the woman simply couldn't get it through her thick skull that Arizona wanted nothing more to do with her. That she didn't want to be friends. She opened the message, and found a picture attached—Carly and a very cute baby, who closely resembled the gym instructor, Rick. Arizona deleted the message, savagely punching the options on the touch screen.

"That'll teach it," she heard Mark Sloan's voice comment wryly. "Why so abusive, Blondie?" Mark had just sauntered into the peds ward and seen Arizona's grim face as she jabbed at her phone. "I got paged…what's up with my cleft palate kid? He was doing really well."

"You know he's Stark's patient, Mark. Go deal with him, and good luck!" Arizona looked up from her phone, and looked at the clock again. 10 minutes more. That's all.

"What's with the ants in the pants?"

"I've got a date, Mark. And I really need to be out of here."

Arizona's eager tone got Mark's attention. He'd noticed how quiet the blonde had been over the last two weeks, and the sudden return of her perk was suspicious.

"Oh, really? Who's the lucky girl the fussy Dr. Robbins has deigned to go out with?"

Arizona blushed. "Actually, it's Calliope."

"Your hot concert pianist? I thought you were moping around this hospital because you were never going to see her again?"

"She's here for a couple of days." Arizona left out the information that Callie had flown across the country for a dinner date. "And she asked me to have dinner with her tonight." She grinned delightedly at the prospect.

"Well, I hope you get lucky."

Knowing that Mark was just being Mark, Arizona merely punched his arm and told him to shut up. She looked up at the clock once more, and seeing that it lacked only 3 minutes to 6 o' clock, decided to make her way out of the hospital. She had just reached the double doors that led out of the peds ward when her pager beeped insistently from its place at her waist. Almost simultaneously, she heard Mark's go off too, and soon Dr. Stark came pounding down the corridor.

"Robbins, Sloan, to the ER. Right now," he said as he ran past them. "The cleft palate can wait, Sloan! Family of five in an MVC—they're bringing the kids in now. MOVE!"

Arizona's feet knew the path down to the ER, and she made her way there without much conscious effort. The children were being wheeled in on gurneys when she got there. She didn't need the paramedics to tell her that the injuries were severe. Two of the three children were unconscious, and the third, a toddler of about two who seemed unhurt, was screaming in the arms of one of the paramedics. One look at the kids and Arizona knew she would not be leaving the hospital anytime soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry I was so mean as to deny our fav couple their date. We don't want things to go **_**too**_** easily, now do we? Who knows, there may be more bumps ahead! Thank you, everyone who read and reviewed and left comments—you are awesome. In response to one inquiry—yes, this story will be rated M, though not right away**.

Callie was bitterly disappointed. So much so that she actually felt close to tears, and she chastised herself for her lack of control. She was an emotional being; she never hid what she felt, and she was, under her tough exterior, an extremely sensitive soul. That was partly what made her such an excellent musician—she was able to capture mood and emotion perfectly, and communicate these with ease. It had gained her some criticism as an artist who wore her heart on her sleeve, but anyone who heard her play came away having experienced something magical.

Arizona had called her a few minutes after 6 p.m., and told her she would not be able to make it for dinner. She hadn't been able to speak long—just a hurried call to say an emergency had come in, and that she'd probably be in surgery for hours.

Callie sat on her bed in her room at the Archfield and felt sorry for herself. Was there something fundamentally un-dateable or unlovable about her? Logically, she knew that tonight it was not about her, but that didn't really help her feel any less depressed. She thought back on her history of unsuccessful relationships—she had plenty of time to do so, after all. All night, in fact.

There was James, who she had thought she'd been irrevocably in love with. Funny, sweet, handsome James, who showed some talent as a conductor, and to whom she'd been engaged for about six months a few years ago. James, however, couldn't handle the meteoric rise of his fiancée's career, nor the fact that she was being hailed as one of the brightest stars in the firmament of classical pianists. He was never going to be more than a reasonably good conductor, and he took out his frustrations by shagging every female in the violin section. He hadn't bothered to be discreet about it either. Callie remembered him with distaste, and wondered what she had ever seen in him.

Then there had been Erica—brash, unromantic, forthright and rather hard. Callie had been confused by Erica, who represented her first foray into the world of dating women. Erica saw everything in black and white, and Callie saw colours than even normally perceptive people didn't. Erica had attracted Callie with her blunt honesty and ironic sense of humour. She had also repelled her with a lack of basic human understanding—or so Callie had felt at that time. They had ended an already tenuous connection over a puppy. Thinking back on it now, Callie found it silly enough to make her smile a little.

There'd been a wounded puppy in the street—somebody's pet who'd escaped, and it was limping along on the sidewalk, looking miserable. Callie, a bleeding heart if there ever was one, had wanted to stop immediately, pick up the dog and take it to a vet. Erica had refused, saying she was dressed for dinner, and that Callie had much better call the Animal Rescue League who would know what to do. Callie had then demanded to be let out of the car, and an argument ensued that showed the two women that they were never meant to be together.

Since then, Callie had steered clear of getting involved with anyone, male or female. She'd poured all her energy into her music, and the results had been astounding. That is not to say however, that she'd been celibate—her passionate nature made this an impossibility—but she'd kept her liaisons light and uncomplicated as possible. Then she had bumped into Arizona Robbins, and her world had flipped on its ear. Her reaction to the surgeon had been instantaneous, and so visceral that it had shocked and confused her, and made her behave outrageously.

She'd flown out to Seattle despite everything Addison had said to prevent her. Every argument she put forth, every bit of common sense had meant nothing to Callie, in the face of the overwhelming _feeling _she got about Arizona Robbins. She wanted to get to know the blonde—every bit of her, inside and out. And she was sure that this feeling was reciprocated—it was what had urged her to get on a plane and fly out here. She hadn't taken into consideration the nature of Arizona's job.

She sighed in frustration. It was not the blonde's fault—how could Callie blame her for doing her job, when the lives of children hung in the balance? The woman was as passionate about her work as Callie was about her music, and that was one of the most attractive things about her. She was badass, and it turned Callie on no end.

It was getting late. She could have done with a stiff drink, but there was no way she was going down to the bar alone tonight. She ordered a bottle of wine, filled the tub, and luxuriated in an aromatic bubble bath for almost an hour. The level of liquid in her bottle of wine decreased steadily, and soon she was feeling quite mellow. When her fingertips began to resemble prunes she judged she'd spent enough time pitying herself, and got out of the tub, her skin delicately perfumed with Lavender blossom and vanilla.

After digging around in her little suitcase for her pyjamas, she donned the shorts and flimsy tank top that constituted her nightwear, and hopped into bed, hoping that tomorrow at least, Fate would not play such a dirty trick on her.

She had barely closed her eyes when she felt her phone vibrate beside her on the bed, signifying she'd got a text message. She picked it up, squinting at the screen, and then sat bolt upright when she saw who it was from.

*Are you awake?* the message read.

_*****Yeah, still up*****_ she replied, and her phone began to ring as soon as the text went through.

"Calliope?" came Arizona's voice. "Are you sure I'm not disturbing you?"

"I wasn't asleep, it's alright," Callie said.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Can I come over?" was the surprising request.

Callie shot out of bed like she'd been bitten. "Uh…" she grunted as she tripped over the slippers at her bedside.

"I'm sorry, I know that's an odd request, I'll just—"

"NO…" Callie said hastily. "It's ok. Come over, I'm in 1205."

"I'll see you soon then." And Arizona hung up.

Callie scampered over to her suitcase, discarding her tank top and scrabbling around for her clothes. She pulled out a T-shirt, and dragged it on. She was looking for her jeans when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and was distracted by her wildly disarrayed hair. Grabbing her brush, she tamed the tangled mane slightly and tied it up in a pony tail—it would have to do for now. She was giving herself a dissatisfied once-over in the mirror when there was a knock at the door. Damn! Where were those pants? The knock came again, and Callie, deciding Arizona couldn't possibly have made it there so fast, went to the door to see who it was.

She opened it, and found that it was indeed Arizona. The blonde surgeon was standing there, looking rather sheepish and very tired. She was in her street clothes, which looked rather rumpled, and her hair was still wet from a recent shower. When she saw Callie, her eyes went wide, and she stood in the doorway as if she'd been petrified, doing an admirable deer in the headlights impression.

Callie opened the door wider, indicating that the blonde should come in.

"What?" she asked, noticing Arizona's stare.

Arizona gulped. Callie was barefoot, in a tiny pair of shorts, and all she could focus on was a bronzed pair of shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Her eyes trailed up the brunette's form in open appreciation, and almost bugged out of her head again when she noticed the conspicuous lack of bra under Callie's T-shirt.

"Uh…legs…" were the first words her tired brain formed, and they were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Callie looked down at her attire and felt her face heat up. Then, she grabbed Arizona's hand and pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Sorry," she said, "You didn't give me enough time to change. Stop staring!"

Arizona averted her eyes. "Sorry, Calliope. I was already in the lobby when I called you. Yeah, I know it was presumptuous of me—but I was hoping you wouldn't have turned in for the night."

Callie noticed how knackered the surgeon looked, and took her hand once more. "You look so tired. You didn't have to do this—I understand that you can't always predict your schedule. I would have come and demanded your attention at work tomorrow."

Arizona smiled. "I know. I just wanted to see you tonight, even for a little bit…I'll leave soon, I promise. You look like you were already in bed."

"No, I don't want you to leave," said Callie. "It's not that late. Just give me a minute to change into something decent." She turned towards the bathroom, but was pulled back by a tug on her hand, which the blonde had not released.

"Don't change. Legs like that ought to be appreciated," Arizona said, her gaze darkening slightly as it trailed slowly over the brunette again. Callie felt her skin tingle and grow warm where ever Arizona's eyes touched her. The blonde was unabashedly checking her out.

"You sure know how to be subtle," Callie said, coming closer to Arizona and raising one hand to trace the path of a wet blonde tendril down the side of her face. Callie couldn't seem to be around her and not touch her in some way. "You got away sooner than you expected? Did it go ok?"

Arizona's face clouded over, and she shook her head. "No. We lost one of those kids. I had to work with Stark on the other, who just about made it. You know, I hate my job sometimes." Her dead drooped a little, and she looked defeated just thinking about it, her good mood at seeing Callie dissipating fast.

"I'm so sorry…" Callie had been about to offer her guest a chair, but now she led Arizona to the unrumpled side of the bed, which was closest to them, and made her sit down. Then she sat beside the blonde and slipped an arm round her, drawing her close as if it was the most natural thing to do. Arizona leaned her head on the offered shoulder and closed her eyes. It had been a really difficult night. She resisted an urge to press closer into the warm, soft side of the woman beside her.

"I'm ok," she said, "I deal with this all the time Calliope. It's part of what we do."

Callie felt Arizona's breath puff against the side of her neck, and felt her heartbeat speed up. That was all it took, apparently; Arizona had only to breathe out on her and she was a puddle of goo.

"You smell…amazing," was the next comment from the blonde. Callie giggled. Tired Arizona had no filter either, from the looks of it.

"I had the longest, lushest, most decadent bubble bath just a little while ago," she said, "And about half a bottle of wine with it too. Though neither really made up for missing my date with you."

"Aww, you're sweet," said Arizona, raising her head, her smile finding its way back to her lips. "And one day, maybe I'll show you what a really _decadent_ bath feels like." Her meaning was implicit, and Callie blushed furiously.

"You're all sorts of inappropriate tonight, you know that?" she said, swatting Arizona's arm. "And here I thought you were the shy retiring type and _I _was being pushy."

"Nope, not shy," said Arizona. "But don't go thinking I make a habit of visiting women I barely know in their hotel rooms."

"Only the ones who call you names, huh?"

"No. Just the ones who are unlawfully gorgeous," responded Arizona seriously, leaning forward slightly and lifting her hand to Callie's face. "And ridiculously talented," she went on, stroking her fingers down the soft skin of Callie's cheek.

Callie gulped unromantically. "You're full of glib lines, Dr. Robbins," she said, rather breathlessly. "Does outright flattery always work for you?"

Arizona leaned in a little further, and Callie closed her eyes for a moment, liking how the blonde's fingers caressed her cheek and moved down to the back of her neck to draw her closer. "I don't know. Does it?"

"Worst line ever," said Callie, as Arizona's fingers tickled the back of her neck. "Leaves _me_ cold, for sure." Their faces were so close she had to whisper, and a tense silence hung between them for a few seconds. Then a strange gurgling noise broke the hush in the room, making Arizona move away with a jump, and Callie stare open-mouthed for a minute before dissolving into helpless giggles.

"Well, crap." Arizona's face turned red, and she looked down at her tummy in embarrassment. She glanced at Callie, who had doubled up on the bed and said, indignantly, "I'm glad my hunger is a source of amusement, Calliope."

"Oh, I'm sorry," gasped Callie. "But that was just _so_ romantic."

"No sympathy for the woman who's been on her feet all day, and who hasn't had a bite since lunch? Nice." Arizona shook her head in mock disappointment.

Callie sobered up immediately. "Arizona, you haven't had dinner?"

"No, there wasn't time for dinner. I was in the OR till about 10:30 and then I came here."

"You must be starving!" Quick sympathy filled the brunette's face.

"I am. I could eat a cow. Actually, I could eat the whole damn dairy," Arizona said, not mincing matters.

"Well, I wasn't in the mood to eat either…but now that you're here, how about we have some dinner?"

"It's just past 11, Calliope. We can't go out now…besides, I'm not dressed for it!"

"Ever heard of room service?" Callie held up the phone. "What do you want?"

Arizona thought for a moment. "Something huge, and unhealthy and greasy and simply buried in fries." She paused. "On the other hand I could do with a pizza, topped with just about everything and extra cheese, with a side of garlic bread…" Her eyes lit up when she thought of something else, "Oh, and some cold beer and…"

Callie put down the phone. "So you really did mean the whole damn dairy," she said. "Take your time."

Arizona debated the merits of her various meal choices, while Callie looked on, amused. She hadn't felt like eating earlier, when Arizona had called to cancel their date, but now, listening to the blonde extol the charms of various pizzas, she felt the pangs of hunger herself.

"I think it's got to be Pizza, Calliope." Arizona came to a decision. "And it's got to be from Rosa's. Is that ok? Do you have any preferences?"

"Go ahead and order. I don't think the hotel will object, and wouldn't tell me even if they did! They've been bending over backwards ever to please me ever since the manager figured out who my father was. Just don't get anything that has pineapple or anchovies on it."

Arizona picked up her phone and placed their order, and then propped herself up on the bank of pillows against the headboard, looking very much at home. Callie sat opposite her, cross-legged at the end of the bed. Arizona was momentarily distracted again by the length of bronzed leg, folded now, but no less enticing. She had some extremely inappropriate visions of what those legs might feel like under her hands, and…well, other parts of her anatomy, and told herself sternly to stop drooling.

"So, Calliope," she said, chattily, "Tell a hungry peds surgeon who's had a bad day something?"

"Ok," said Callie. "What?"

"How are you still single?"

Callie was silent.

"Sorry, is that rude?"

"No…but I might ask you the same question. Would you be willing to answer?"

Arizona answered her question by telling Callie about Carly. About how she'd once even contemplated having children with the woman, only to be told in no uncertain terms that it would never happen. She told Callie how their relationship had been strained ever since then, and how its soap opera-esque ending had not really surprised her.

Their food arrived, and Callie insisted on paying, saying she had asked Arizona out for dinner in the first place. For a while, all conversation ceased as Arizona's attention was claimed by a large, cheesy, aromatic pizza.

"Are those meatballs?" Callie asked, fascinated.

"Mmm-hmmm. Grab some while you still can…it's sooo good."

When they had taken the edge off their hunger, Callie entertained the blonde with little anecdotes about her disastrous engagement to James. Arizona was curious, and Callie had no reservations about talking about it now. She gave a spirited impression of James trying to conduct a Mahler symphony and looking like he was backstroking round a pool. She described, quite vividly and in much detail, how the female contingent of the violin section had discovered they had all 'played under his baton'—quite literally—and the catfight that ensued. She found it strange that, with the distance of a few years, she could laugh at what had happened, given how heartbroken she'd been at that time. Arizona commented that James and Carly would have made a wonderful match, and then sniggered appreciatively when Callie told her about the puppy she had saved, who ended up killing her relationship with Erica.

When the last delicious bite of pizza had been consumed, Arizona lay back on the pillows again, heaving a satisfied sigh. "God, that was good. Thank you, Calliope. I think I might have died if you hadn't fed me."

Callie lifted the empty pizza box off the bed and put it down on the small glass-topped table by the window. Then she walked around the bed to the side Arizona was on, and leaned down a little. "You're most welcome. It's not every day I get to entertain hot doctors in my bed." She pulled out a tissue from the box by the bed and handed it to Arizona. "There are traces of pizza on your face, Dr. Robbins." Then, apparently feeling Arizona was incapable of handling the problem herself, swiped her thumb across the corner of the blonde's mouth, and then froze as she registered the intimacy of her action.

Arizona's eyes turned a fascinating shade of dark blue as they stared at each other. She leaned up slightly, towards the brunette, taking the offending hand in her own, her eyes trained on the spot of sauce on the thumb. She looked back up, and their eyes locked like opponents facing off before a fight. Callie fought to keep her composure.

"I believe," she said, keeping her voice light, "If movies or trashy romances are anything to go by, the norm would be for me to lick my thumb, or for you to lick it for me."

Arizona nodded, the brunette's proximity hindering her ability to articulate. "Let me," she said, bringing Callie's hand to her mouth. She pressed her lips to the ball of the thumb, parted them a little and sucked the little drop of sauce off, allowing her tongue to make contact with Callie's skin. She heard the brunette's quick inhalation of breath, and pushed herself up further, getting to her knees on the bed, so that she was almost level with the woman standing beside her. She reached out, resting an arm on Callie's shoulder and bending it to pull her forward. Her other hand found the brunette's waist.

"No more wise cracks?" she asked. "Or bits of sage advice on what and what not to lick?"

Callie shook her head, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and biting on it.

Arizona moved forward on her knees, leaning into Callie until the only thing stopping her from toppling off the bed was the brunette's body. She brought her other arm up and propped it on Callie's other shoulder, locking her hands behind that long, black pony tail.

"Then, can you freakin kiss me already, Calliope?"

Callie seemed to find her voice. "Only if you can shut up long enough to let me," she said, closing the few inches between them, and stopping Arizona's mouth by covering it with her own.

Arizona's eyes slammed shut, and her grip around the Callie's neck tightened as she felt those full, soft lips make contact with hers, pressing softly on her mouth. She felt Callie's lips part slightly as they pulled gently on her lower, and then upper lip. Strong hands encircled her waist, dipping under her shirt, the thumbs rubbing light circles on her tummy, setting off a trail of electric sparks on her belly. An inquisitive tongue made a leisurely swipe along Arizona's upper lip, traveled to the corner of her mouth, and back again, as if curiously investigating a new flavor. Arizona opened her lips, surrendering to the single most sensuous kiss she had ever experienced. Callie's tongue slid into her mouth as if she were tasting a rare and delicate fruit. She kissed Arizona with a slow, exploratory thoroughness, both gentle and intense, that all but short-circuited the blonde's brain. She found herself pressing impossibly closer, winding her arms tighter around the brunette, savoring every tug, every touch, each heated meeting of lips and tongue until she felt dizzy.

Finally, desperate for air and conscious that the Callie's hands had traveled down to her ass and were pulling her in, almost lifting her, she broke away. If they continued in this manner, nothing would keep them from falling into the conveniently located bed together. And it was too soon for that. Arizona was going to wait, even though she felt as if Callie had set her insides on fire. She moved her head back, opening her eyes, and watched as the brown eyes before her opened slowly, their expression revealing undisguised desire. She leaned forward again, unable to stop herself, claiming Callie's lips a second time, and a third, before tearing herself away.

"Calliope," she whispered, resting her forehead against Callie's.

"Yeah," Callie agreed, though nothing had really been said.

"I think I should go now, before we…before…"

"Maybe that's a good idea."

They stayed still for a little longer, and then Arizona moved out of Callie's embrace. She got off the bed, and found her purse and shoes. Callie watched her silently, wishing she could keep the blonde with her a little longer, but also knowing that it would probably not be the best move right now. They had met each other precisely four times, and for half of that time, they'd been fighting.

Arizona moved towards the door. Then, noticing that Callie hadn't stirred, came back to her.

"Come see me tomorrow?" she asked, taking Callie's hand and pulling her towards the door. "I've got a little time after lunch…and if you aren't tired of me by then, will you consider having dinner with me…again?"

Callie allowed herself to be led to the door. "Yes, and…yes," she replied, opening the door. "Wow. I didn't even try to play hard to get. Did you see that?"

"You've been plenty hard to get, Calliope. And since you're leaving tomorrow night or something, you're going to continue to be hard to get."

Callie's face fell. "I know."

Arizona turned to the brunette. "Let's not think about it now. I'll see you tomorrow." She leaned in and gave Callie a brief hug, not wanting to draw out the moment. "Good night, Calliope. Dinner was just phenomenal. Sleep well."

Callie watched as Arizona walked away down the hall, and when she was lost to sight, closed the room door and leaned against it. She was in such deep, deep trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry about the long break! It's been hard to get back on this ship when it looks like it's sinking! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Thank you, everyone, for your comments and suggestions. And especially thank you to those who have prodded me to update :)**

Callie cleared her throat meaningfully, and said "Excuse me," in her most refined voice.

"Ah, Ms. Torres," said Maggie, looking up and giving Callie a polite smile. "Dr. Robbins is with a patient, but she'll be with you directly. Would you care to sit down?"

Callie stared. "What, no giving me the run-around today? I'm no longer _persona non grata_?"

"Don't push it. I'm tolerating you because Dr. Robbins seems to find something in you worth smiling about. And we like to see her smile around here." Maggie gave Callie a withering look over the tops of her glasses.

"Oh, that's a scary face, Maggie. But I remember who gave Arizona a nudge in my direction yesterday. I think I owe you a hug for that!" Callie smiled at the redoubtable nurse, who seemed to soften considerably under the charm Callie was exuding for her benefit.

"I take it you had a good date, judging from your good mood?"

"Well, actually, we didn't have a date at all…Arizona was pulled into an emergency. But she made up for it later," Callie said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, and laughing when Maggie pressed her fingers to her ears.

"Some things I don't need to know, Ms. Torres," she said severely.

"Come on, Mags. You can call me Callie."

"It's Margaret or Maggie, young lady. And I'll thank you to remember that."

Callie heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and turned around, beaming, expecting to see Arizona. She found herself looking at Robert Stark instead. Her smile died ludicrously fast on her lips as she regarded the short, balding man who seemed to have a permanent sneer on his face. He put a patient chart down on the counter, pushing it wordlessly towards Maggie, who took it with a sour look. His gaze was trained penetratingly on Callie. Then his eyes widened in surprise and recognition.

"Aren't you…? Yes! You're Calliope Torres! ... Ms. Torres, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your last performance here in Seattle—you played Tchaikovsky…" he almost gushed. "I'm a big fan."

Callie remembered only too well the evening she had played Tchaikovsky. It was the night she had received one basket of hothouse tulips, chopped into tiny fragments. "Oh…ah, well, that's nice," she said, politely.

"I'm particularly fond of the recording of Beethoven sonatas you did recently," he continued, staring at her like a star-struck adolescent.

"Um…thanks, I'm glad you like it. Personally, I don't think it represents my best work," Callie said self-deprecatingly.

"Oh, I don't think you've made a single recording that has disappointed," he fawned, while Callie fidgeted awkwardly. Then he seemed to gather his wits. "What can I do for you, Ms. Torres? Are you visiting a patient?"

"I'm just waiting for Dr. Robbins," she responded.

His face darkened. "Is anything the matter? If there's any problem with Dr. Robbins, let me know about it at once."

"There's no problem, really-" Callie replied hastily, but was interrupted when a quick footfall sounded in the corridor to her left, and a happy voice called out "Calliope?"

Dr. Stark turned to face Arizona as she entered the room. "Dr. Robbins," he said sternly, "Are you treating a child who is connected to Ms. Torres? Why was I not informed of this?"

Arizona stopped, and shook her head, puzzled. Then she walked briskly up to Callie and hugged her, kissing her cheek and murmuring something in her ear. Dr. Stark watched in amazement and chagrin as Callie chuckled in's response to whatever she'd been told, and return the embrace with fervor. Something in the way his subordinate nestled her face in the crook of Callie's neck, and the way the pianist's hands he had often admired wandered over the surgeon's body made it quite clear the embrace was not really platonic.

"Dr. Robbins! I must ask you to refrain from such public displays!" He barked, turning red and averting his eyes, even though the two women had done nothing more that hug.

Callie released Arizona and looked over at Stark. "Dr….Stark, is it?" she asked, with one of her devastating smiles. He blinked rapidly, and couldn't help but respond with a half-smile. "I've absolutely no complaints about Dr. Robbins. In fact, I must compliment you on the excellence of your department. Dr. Robbins has got to be a real asset—an extremely _attractive_ one, wouldn't you agree?" She said, as she slipped an arm around the blonde's waist.

"Hrrrmp. Well, er…"

"And considering how hard she works I'm sure you won't mind if I take her out for a quick bite," Callie continued, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Stark's, still giving him a determined smile.

"Oh…ah, well, I suppose…"

"I thought so. Thank you so much—you must be such a great boss to work for," she said over her shoulder, as she led Arizona out of the room.

XXX

As it turned out, they were not destined to have any alone time at lunch. Mark caught them as they were making their way out of the hospital, and together with Teddy, made such a fuss over the fact that Arizona was 'hiding' Callie from her friends and sneaking off for some afternoon delight, that they ended up in the hospital cafeteria, eating unpalatable food with an extremely interesting group of people.

Callie was at once amused and shocked by the people that surrounded Arizona here. They were all curiously blunt and forthright, and the ruder they were to each other, the closer they seemed to be. They were all up in one another's business and sex-lives, apparently, and Callie thought she'd need a flow chart to remember just who was with whom. She took to the diminutive Dr. Bailey immediately—the woman was five foot nothing of pure attitude, and Callie appreciated people who knew their own worth. Teddy was also likeable—the rangy blonde looked tough, and her long, clever face was both humorous and compassionate. Mark, she didn't quite get. She had a strong feeling he was not simply the inappropriate ass he wanted her to believe he was—but only closer acquaintance would prove that. Then there were the twisted sisters, as Arizona called them—Meredith Grey and Christina Yang. They seemed to communicate on a level that totally escaped her, and everyone else at the table. They made no effort to speak to Callie—in contrast to the others, who seemed very interested in getting to know her.

"Are you going to be in LA long?" Bailey asked, "What are you going to be doing there, besides play concerts?"

Callie explained that she was playing Brahms with the LA Philharmonic, and that she was also playing at a recital held in honor of the director of the LA Phil, who was retiring after a long and illustrious career.

"It's going to be one of those really boring black-tie things" Callie continued, speaking of the event that was to follow the recital. "But I've got to go—Maestro Giulini was a mentor to me, and I can't forget that."

"So you just have all these pieces of music stored away in your head?" asked Teddy, in some awe. "Aren't there like…hundreds? And from what I heard, they all go on for at least forty minutes!"

"I'm sorry you had to sit through that, Teddy," Callie laughed. "Though only concerti go on that long. But I'm really grateful that you did," she said, looking across at Arizona and winking. "As for memorizing music—I don't think it can compare to being on your feet, elbow deep inside a person for hours on end!"

"Talking about being elbow deep inside people—yikes! I've got a bowel resection in 20 minutes!" Arizona leaped up from her chair. They had been engrossed in conversation, and time had slipped away from them. "I'm sorry, Calliope, I've got to run." She looked around the table, unwilling to speak of her plans for the evening in front of them all. "I'll call you later?"

Callie nodded, disappointed. She had liked meeting Arizona's friends, but she had been counting on spending some time with the blonde before dinner. Mark saw her face fall.

"Hey gorgeous," he said, "Don't look like that. How would you like to see Blondie in action? I think it's only fair…after all, she's seen _you_ perform."

"Mark!" Arizona said quickly, "What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing too drastic, don't get your panties in a bunch. Just run along and get scrubbed in for your surgery, I'll look after Callie for a while."

Arizona left because she simply had to, but was pretty unhappy about leaving Callie in Mark's hands. She didn't quite know what he was planning. She found out soon enough, however, when she looked up at the gallery during her surgery and saw Callie seated among the other doctors, wearing navy blue scrubs, an expression of fascinated awe on her face. She smiled behind her mask, and looked up at Callie, who gave her one of her widest grins, and a small wiggle of her fingers to say hi. Mark really was turning out to be a nice guy. She had to remember to thank him later.

XXX

"Sun lights up the daytime

Moon lights up the night….

I light up when you call my name and you know I'm gonna treat you right

You give me fever…"

Damn straight, thought Arizona as a husky voice breathed the words close to her ear. This chick _was_ born to give her fever, and there was no getting away from it.

The bar was crowded. 'Round Midnight was a popular Jazz trio, and drew in no small number of fans. Right now they were playing some classics, and the skimpily dressed woman who was crooning her tune into the microphone was as easy on the eyes as the ears. She was leaning against the piano, and every time she swayed to the beat of her song, her leg was revealed by a slit that ran almost up to her hip. Her blonde hair was styled Marilyn Monroe-fashion, and the shade of startling red on her lips contrasted with the paleness of her skin and platinum blonde hair. Arizona might have drooled at the sight if she were not so distracted, or if her companion had been anyone else. As it was, her attention was completely claimed by the woman who stood behind her, singing along quietly, unaware of how her smooth, smoky voice was affecting the blonde.

They were leaning against the bar, and had turned to face the makeshift stage where the trio was performing. It proved to be a good vantage point from which to catch all the comings and goings at the club that night. The tables set up around the performing area were mostly full, and a few couples were dancing in the tiny space provided. The bar was thick with people who had come to hear the band—some were actually listening, others were drinking, or picking up companions for the night, or making out in the dim, smoky lighting.

They had been there for a while, and Callie was thoroughly enjoying the music, not to mention her company. She loved jazz, even though she couldn't really play in that style, and appreciated the skill of the trio playing tonight. She was standing behind her companion, so close that she could sense the tang of Arizona's perfume through the smoky air. It was distracting, especially because Arizona's dress that night exposed much of her back and shoulders. It had straps so thin you could barely see them, and the silky material clung to her, hugging her breasts in a V in front, and draping filmily along her curves in a way that made more than one person stare in admiration. Though that shade of old rose was not one the blonde often wore, Callie thought it brought warmth to her peaches-and-cream complexion, and complimented her delicate features. She couldn't seem to focus much on the music, because her eyes kept wandering to the bare shoulders, the smooth and faintly freckled skin, the beautifully defined muscles on the back and arms of the woman in front of her. She was so close, she had only to reach out a few inches to touch. The temptation was unbearable.

It was like watching a disembodied hand—it certainly couldn't be hers reaching out so boldly, fingertips tracing a path down Arizona's left arm, from shoulder to elbow. At the touch, Arizona turned her head to look over her shoulder, and smiled. Callie was struck again at the depth of the blueness in those eyes, and spent some time simply staring back. Her other hand found its way to Arizona's right shoulder, and she ran her fingers down that arm, rather gratified by the way her touch seemed to elicit an outbreak of goose-pimples in the blonde. Arizona turned back around to watch the singer, but in doing so, she moved backwards ever so slightly, making the gap between their bodies almost imperceptible. The next time Callie's fingers stroked down Arizona's arm, she found her hand being taken in a soft hold and placed at the blonde's waist. Without turning around, Arizona held out her other hand, silently asking for Callie's. When her request was granted, she placed Callie's other hand around her waist as well, and then settled back into the embrace she had created for herself, placing her hands on top of the brunette's. She leaned back, allowing Callie to pull her closer, feeling her breath on her ear and cheek, and relishing the way it seemed to stutter just a little before blowing hot over her skin.

Callie swayed with the music, quite content with the present arrangement, and Arizona had trouble regulating her breathing every time the brunette's hips gyrated gently against her. She didn't know what she wanted to do more—lead the brunette over to the dance floor, or turn around in her arms and kiss her breathless. Ever since she had set eyes on her date that evening, she'd been waiting for a chance to do just that.

Callie had insisted on picking her up, and had shown up at her apartment door at precisely 7:30, looking stunning in a sleeveless plum-colored dress that seemed moulded to her form. It was cut square and low across the chest, and Arizona had a hard time dragging her eyes up to Callie's face and keeping them there. She was holding an elegant bouquet of pink and white flowers that Arizona didn't quite recognize. The delicate, origami-like petals of the flowers seemed to grow in little ruffled layers, their colors perfectly blended. Callie seemed to have a thing for flowers, she thought wryly, thinking of the brunette's last beautiful offering, which had come to a rather sad end. "Thank you, Calliope. They're beautiful," she said, kissing Callie's cheek. "What are they? I'm sorry, I'm not really well-versed in these things."

"They're Ranunculus blooms," Callie said, "And I'm going to leave you to figure out what they mean."

Dinner had been an excellent and long-drawn out meal in an informal, secluded setting, where they talked for hours, the banter flowing easily, and neither refraining from flirting outrageously. Arizona, who was rather fond of Jazz, had suggested going out after dinner to hear 'Round Midnight play at one of the more popular bars in the area, and Callie had agreed with alacrity. When Callie got up a while later to use the bathroom, Arizona took the opportunity to find out what she'd been curious about all evening. She pulled her phone out of her bag, and in a very short space of time, was provided with the meaning behind the enigmatic Ranunculus flowers.

"I am dazzled by your charm," she read, her cheeks going pink with pleasure as she fell a little harder for the brunette. Damn, but she was good.

Now, while the smooth sounds of the Jazz trio and their sexy singer filled the bar, held firmly in the circle of Callie's arms, she wondered how she was ever going to manage to say goodbye at the end of what, for her, had been a perfect night. Deciding to make the best of what little time was left, she leaned back further against the brunette, turning her face so that her lips brushed Callie's cheek.

"Dance with me, Calliope?" she asked, turning around to face Callie, who nodded, and held out her hand, palm up. She placed her hand in Callie's, and allowed herself to be led to the tiny space that had been cleared for that purpose. It had become very much more crowded over the last few minutes, and they edged in at one corner of the dance floor. Callie stood there, undecided for a moment. Then she drew Arizona closer, and taking her hands, guided them up around her neck while she settled her own hands at Arizona's waist. She pulled slightly, and feeling the pressure, Arizona moved into her and with her, letting her lead the way, feeling her moves instinctively. And then, right there, Calliope Torres had an epiphany. Nothing as spectacular as a bolt of lightning, or scales falling from her eyes—merely a quiet voice in her head that that said "Yes. Finally. At last." Something clicked into place—maybe it was the stars aligning, she thought, as she looked into the blue eyes gazing back at her. She closed her eyes as she felt fingers caress the back of her neck, and then felt the softness of Arizona's cheek as it pressed against hers.

The trio was performing a set of 40's standards, and were in the mood to play their schmaltziest tunes, apparently. It was pretty perfect. For several songs, the rest of the world simply melted away as they learned how they fit together.

They were brought back to earth when the music changed from sentimental to steamy. The band launched into "Why don't you do right?" of Jessica Rabbit fame. They listened to the opening bars in amusement, remembering the busty red-head with a penchant for patty-cake. Callie mouthed the words with an exaggerated pout, and her hands moved down to grip Arizona's hips and make them sway extravagantly, very much in the style of J. Rabbit.

"Now all you need are impossibly high heels and a slit down to there—" she felt Callie's hand run up the outside of her thigh, and her words tickle her ear.

Arizona laughed. "To think that I actually dressed up for you this evening," she said, shaking her head and looking disappointed. "And here you are, telling me you prefer a half-naked cartoon femme fatale."

Callie looked at her, her lips quirking up as a very naughty thought flashed through her mind. Her hands slid up the silky material of Arizona's dress, up her back and onto her shoulders. She trailed her fingers lightly along the arms that were entwined around her neck. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I like this dress," she said. She took Arizona's hands off her neck and twirled her, crossing the blonde's arms in front of her as she pulled her back. Arizona's back was now flush against Callie as they swayed slowly to the sultry beat. Callie let her cheek touch her partner's, and then she turned her face so that her lips were pressed to Arizona's ear. "But I must admit, the half-naked part is really appealing too," she said, teasing.

The temperature in the bar seemed to have risen by several degrees, because Arizona found her cheeks getting very hot. "That's charming, Calliope," she said, a little breathless. "I'll see what I can do…next time."

"You'll wear a backless, strapless dress?" Callie turned Arizona around to face her again, and felt her heart stutter a little when the blonde slid her hands slowly up Callie's arms. She curled one palm softly around the back of Callie's neck, and with the other, cupped the brunette's cheek. Her gaze was trained on the perfect cupid's bow of Callie's lips, which looked even more luscious tonight under a subtle application of lip gloss.

"No, Calliope," she replied with a smirk. "But I might consider a game of…ah, patty-cake." Callie gulped as Arizona's meaning became plain. "I should warn you though…I can get very competitive," Arizona continued, enjoying how easy it was to disconcert the brunette, who was giving her a wide-eyed look and coloring under her tan.

"I think you'll find I'm not a pushover," Callie responded at last, licking her lips, her throat going dry as Arizona's thumb ran lightly across her cheekbone in the softest caress. "Jessica Rabbit has nothing on you, Calliope," she said, giving in to temptation and leaning forward. She brought her lips to Callie's in a barely-there kiss, just the lightest brush. A moment later, she was doing it again, lingering over the warm mouth under hers, but not going any further. She felt Callie's hands tighten around her waist and pull her in.

"Get outta here….bring me some money too," sang the siren at the microphone.

Callie thought that if Arizona did that…that…thing she did—it couldn't be called a kiss really—one more time, she would have to grab the blonde, take her to the nearest bathroom and make her see how dangerous it was to tease her. As kisses went, it was pretty chaste, so why did her head feel like it would explode? She felt the singer had the right idea. It was time to leave before she did something stupid.

"Arizona," she breathed out over the lips that were almost touching hers again. "You want to get outta here?"

Arizona looked back at her, comprehension in her eyes. "We can go back to mine, if you like," she said, reluctantly moving out of Callie's embrace and leading her out of the bar.

XXX

She couldn't concentrate on making coffee—not with Callie hovering so close behind her. The coffee was just a pretext anyway, and they both knew that. She had asked Callie if she wanted any merely for appearance's sake. She could feel the heat radiating off Callie, and the tension between them was so thick it was almost solid. She raised her arm to open a cabinet above her head, and take down a mug, but Callie reached up easily from behind her, taking the mug down for her and putting it on the counter. She had Arizona effectively boxed in between her body and the kitchen counter now, and she could see the rapid rise and fall of the shoulders in front of her as the blonde fought to concentrate on her task. She decided to push a little further, touching the all-but-bare back, and tracing her fingers lightly along the path of some tiny freckles that were scattered between the shoulder blades.

Arizona turned. "Calliope…" she whispered, "I can't…"

"You can't…what?" Callie asked, smirking slyly at the blonde who seemed have lost the plot a little bit. She moved even closer, and put her hands on Arizona's waist. "You can't make coffee?" she said softly, with a little laugh. "You can't kiss me?"

It was like waving a T-bone steak in front of a starving lion. The words were barely out of her mouth before Arizona's hands were on her, pulling her in roughly, while her lips were captured in a hungry and demanding kiss that robbed her of breath and the power of speech all at once. She opened her mouth under those soft pink lips—lips that were now anything but gentle. They pressed urgently to Callie's mouth, tasting, sucking, nipping, pulling first on her upper lip, and then dwelling on her full, rounded lower lip like a connoisseur tasting a fine wine. One hand found its way into Callie's hair, aggressively pulling her down to deepen the contact. Callie had now lost not only her breath and power of speech, she had also completely lost her power of thought. On autopilot, she grabbed Arizona's hips, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter, and she moaned into the mouth that was devouring hers so voraciously. Somehow, her hands had found their way to Arizona's thighs, and were pushing her dress up so that she could move the blonde's knees apart and stand between them. Arizona hummed her approval as she felt Callie's hands slide up her legs, and she wrapped them around the brunette, breaking her frantic kiss to take a breath.

"I was going to say, Calliope," she panted, "that I can't concentrate on anything," she moved her head to Callie's neck, "with you so close." She opened her mouth over Callie's pulse point, feeling the brunette's racing heart, "Least of all make coffee."

Callie ran her hands down the smooth shapely legs that were wound around her, and gasped in surprised approval when Arizona palmed her breast through the material of her dress, fingers tickling and teasing until the nipple pebbled under them. She heard a satisfied sigh in her ear, and was conscious of Arizona's legs tightening around her. She sucked her breath in with a hiss as the blonde's tongue traced the shell of her ear before settling firmly on a point below her ear and sucking at the tender skin there. Callie slid her hands up those legs again, palms slipping over taught thighs, under the material of the dress, higher and higher, until the tips of her fingers encountered a pair of lacy panties. She felt Arizona move under her hands, shifting on the counter to give her better access. One of her hands, which had been gripping Callie's shoulder came down on the kitchen counter, to give herself a little leverage. Callie was just about to yank that scrap of lace down Arizona's legs when they were shaken out of their lust-filled haze by the sound of something shattering. They broke apart in surprise, looking around to see what had caused the noise. It was the mug Callie had taken down—it had been knocked off the counter by Arizona's flailing hand as it searched for some purchase on the smooth surface.

They stared at each other, a little shocked at how quickly a kiss had escalated into near-sex on the kitchen counter. They were both breathing heavily, eyes darkened with sudden passion. They had, however, both regained the power of reason.

Callie smiled ruefully at the woman whose legs were still holding her tightly, and on the waistband of whose panties her fingers were still crooked. She released the lacy garment, and rather shamefaced, pulled her hands out from under the blonde's dress. Arizona's blue eyes looked at her, questioning.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, leaning her forehead against the Arizona's. "I got carried away."

"What, Calliope? What's wrong?" Arizona asked, thinking that something about her had put the brunette off.

"Nothing's wrong…you are beautiful and sexy and utterly perfect," Callie replied, leaning into her and kissing her gently.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I have to leave soon… got to be at a rehearsal by 9 a.m., and I have to catch a really early flight."

"Oh." Arizona swallowed her disappointment, and disengaged her legs from around Callie. "Do you have to leave right away?"

"No… not right away, I have a couple of hours maybe...I didn't think we'd be out all night, you know." She looked at her watch, which showed her that it was past 2 a.m. Pausing for a moment, she glanced back at Arizona, whose brows had gone up again in an unspoken query. "There's nothing I want more that to…um…_be_ with you right now," she said, giving her companion a meaningful look. "But I don't want the first time we're together…um, _that_ way, to be a quickie on a kitchen counter, and then for me to have to up and leave you. Do you understand, mi dulzura?" she asked softly, raising her hand to cup the blonde's cheek.

If Arizona had been in danger of falling when she had learned the message behind Callie's flowers earlier that evening, she was now well and truly beyond the point of recall. She understood Callie's point, and disappointed as she was, didn't want something as special as what they seemed to have to be consummated on her kitchen counter. It had been a very near thing, however. The woman seemed to provoke something wild and ungovernable within her.

She nodded, and, still sitting on her kitchen counter, put her arms around Callie and rested her head on her shoulder. "What does that mean?" she asked, "I don't speak Spanish."

"It means," Callie said, drawing Arizona gently off the counter, "That I think you're sweet."

Arizona smiled and blushed, which Callie found rather adorable. "Thank you, Calliope…" she said, bending down to pick up the pieces of the shattered mug, and giving Callie an eyeful of her derriere as she did so. "You know something?"

Callie stared. And forgot to speak.

Arizona stood up with the shattered remains of the mug and observed Callie's expression. She giggled. "I was just going to say that I'm really not the dazzlingly charming one around here," she said, referring to Callie's flowers. "But now I'm just going to have to call you a perv," she continued, taking Callie's hand and led her into the living room. She sat down on the couch, pulling the brunette down next to her. "If you don't have to leave right away, there are things we could be doing that might be more rewarding than staring at my ass," she said, laying a hand on Callie's chest and sliding it slowly up around her neck.

An hour later, a rather disheveled Callie Torres made her way out of Arizona's building. It was becoming harder and harder to say goodbye, when every nerve and instinct screamed against it. She had no idea what she was going to do, but something was going to have to change, because she knew with absolute certainty that she was not going to be able to keep leaving like this.


	8. Chapter 8

Callie clutched the cup of coffee Addison had given her as if her life depended on it, and closed her eyes as she savored her first sip, thinking to herself that somewhere, someday, she was going to erect a shrine to the gods of coffee and place fresh flowers at it daily. Her head was heavy, her eyes gritty, and her fingers felt like they were divorced from the rest of her body. She was tired. Exhausted, irritated, and very aware that she had not been at her best this morning. She had not practiced in two days, and she was feeling it—for her, two days without touching the keys of a piano was an inordinately long break. She had barely made it to the end of what had been a grueling rehearsal, and for the first time in years had suffered a memory lapse that she had had to fight to recover from. She rested her forehead on the thumb and forefinger of one hand, shielding her eyes from the light that was streaming in through the windshield of Addison's car.

Her mind had been wandering in the slow movement, as her fingers had followed patterns long ingrained in their muscular memory. She had been dwelling on the previous night, remembering the way the candlelight had played across Arizona's face at dinner, in turns shadowing and lighting up her eyes, catching the hint of gloss on her smile, and throwing highlights in the blonde hair that was held in a charmingly messy chignon. Callie deftly executed a little trill, and decided that it was her newest ambition to feel those golden tresses come loose under her hands and spill over her face and chest—and in that second, everything that Brahms was asking of her simply vanished from her mind, to be replaced with a very erotic image. Even her muscular memory ceased to function, and she found herself suddenly scrabbling, searching for notes that had frighteningly deserted her. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a very long time, and it took all her effort and concentration to catch up after several heart-stopping bars of absolute panic.

She huffed in annoyance. How could she have lost concentration so easily?

Addison narrowed her eyes at her friend as she maneuvered through traffic. "Care to share?"

Callie sighed again, taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm just tired and sleep deprived, Addie. I can't believe I zoned out in the second movement—totally lost concentration."

"Sleep deprived? Oh…come on, really? I didn't think the peds surgeon would be so easy."

"Nothing about this is easy Addie. Least of all her. And no, I didn't sleep with her last night—but we were together till I had to leave for the airport. So yeah, I was up all night."

"Up all night…um, talking?" Addison queried, disbelief written across her features.

"Yeah—you got anything against that?" Callie challenged.

"This is you we're talking about. Get serious."

"Alright, well, there was some pretty heavy making out, but that's it. The thing is…I can't stop thinking about her Addie. I almost didn't make my flight because I just couldn't bring myself to leave—she's just…" Callie searched her mind for a suitable word, and failed. "I don't know…"

Addison risked another glance at Callie, and grinned as she observed the usually articulate woman at a loss for words. It had been a long time since Callie had become this ardent about anything other than her music.

"…All I can focus on right now is how I'm going to manage to see her again. It's scaring me. It really is." Callie took another sip of her coffee, and turned to face her friend. "What am I going to do Addie?"

"Well, for starters, you can tell me who your plus one is going to be for Maestro Giulini's felicitation on Sunday," said Addison, reminding Callie that she had yet another recital and function to attend the coming weekend. "Also, what you're going to play."

"Damn it! Do I really need to go for that? I think I've got enough on my plate with the concert this Wednesday—you know I can't split my focus when I have to play Brahms."

"You are one of the artists playing at the recital in his honor—I think it would look pretty strange if you didn't turn up."

Callie rolled her eyes in frustration. "I don't have a plus one. And the only one I want to ask won't be able to come."

"Why don't you ask her?"

Callie half turned in her seat and stretched a hand out to touch Addison's forehead. "Addison Montgomery, you don't have a fever, so I can only assume that you're either drunk or high. And it's pretty early in the day for that. Have you not heard one single thing I've been saying?"

"I have, Callie. Let me recap for you—you're insanely attracted to the hot blonde surgeon, and right now, have it so bad that you actually forgot a few measures of Brahms to think naughty thoughts of her."

"I did not say that!"

"Didn't have to. So why don't you call and ask?"

"Addison, you _do_ know she works in Seattle? That the felicitation is happening in LA? That she's busy and on call like, all the time? How is she ever going to be able to make it here just for Sunday night, and be back for whatever procedure she's got scheduled for Monday?"

Addison cocked an eyebrow at her irate friend. "Well, if I had a father who owned a private jet charter company, in addition to a string of hotels, I would not lose any time asking him for a favor…"

XXX

Arizona stood back and looked at herself, critically appraising the image that stared back at her from the long mirror in her hotel room. Her gaze traveled slowly down from her classic retro side-swept up-do to the impossibly high heels of her Jimmy Choo glitter satin peep-toes, and she nodded sharply once. She'd do. Turning slightly, she looked over her shoulder at her back, and adjusted one of the silver straps that ran across it. She smiled to herself, remembering the conversation she'd had with Callie last week, while they were dancing to the strains of Jessica Rabbit's song. Callie had said that all she needed were impossibly high heels, and a strapless, backless dress. Well, she would get her wish. Her dress was not strapless, nor backless, but it came as near it as possible. Seen head on, her black full-length dress was the epitome of class and style—it clung to her shapely form, almost severe in its simplicity, only a slight flare in the skirt giving her room to walk. Delicate silver curlicues of embroidery, so fine that they seemed part of the material, embellished the top right quarter of the dress, and seemed to gather into the single strap that rose over her right shoulder. The embroidery thickened over the strap, which from the top of her shoulder branched into two and traveled diagonally across her back in two silver lines—one ending at the left side of her waist, and the other just below her left breast. From the waist up, that was all the dress covered of her back.

It all seemed a little bit crazy she thought, as she leaned forward to put the final touches to her make-up and contemplated how she'd wound up here. Ever since she'd met Calliope Torres, her sedate and ordered life had been turned into a carnival ride. And she had to admit, she was enjoying it. But seriously, a private jet? She still couldn't quite wrap her head round it, even after a flight in Carlos Torres' Gulfstream. Her mind drifted back a few days…

_She checked her phone for about the tenth time since she'd sat down to lunch with Teddy. Callie had promised to call her when she reached LA, and as yet, there had been no contact from the woman who'd left her so unwillingly that morning. This was all wrong—usually, it was she, Arizona Robbins, who kept the other party waiting for a phone call; and to see herself now, checking her phone every few minutes like a pathetic schoolgirl was not doing great things for her ego._

"_Tch. Stop it already or I'll take that away from you," Teddy said when Arizona had pulled her phone out yet again. _

"_I'm just expecting a call, Teddy," she said, trying to sound indifferent, and toying with her salad. She picked up a cherry tomato and swirled it around in the dressing, looking down studiously at her food to avoid Teddy's gaze._

"_Uh-huh. I know you're expecting a call, and who you're expecting to speak to."_

_Arizona felt her face flush, and lifted her eyes to find Teddy regarding her with an amused smile. "You look like a thirteen-year-old who got kissed for the first time," Teddy went on, observing the blush covering her friend's cheeks, and the rather tremulous smile on her lips. "You really like her, don't you?"_

_Arizona popped the tomato in her mouth, to give herself time to control her face. She nodded, and on swallowing her mouthful, blurted, "So much. I feel pathetic—just look at me, I almost feel nauseous that she hasn't called, and I've never been like that. Never."_

"_Give her a minute…she did say she'd be in rehearsal today, right?"_

"_Yeah. Yeah, of course…" She stabbed at her salad again, wondering if Callie had made it on time to her rehearsal, and if she had played as well as ever. If she was as tired as Arizona was right now, she might have had a difficult time, especially since Callie had told her last night that the Brahms needed all the depth and strength she could give to sound halfway decent. _

"_Don't mope, she'll call. Have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear her eyes never left your face for more than ten seconds at a time all through lunch yesterday, even though we were all trying to talk to her. I wish someone would look at __**me**__ like that."_

"_Well, if you would just move on and stop making cow-eyes at Owen…" Arizona couldn't finish her sentence because her phone began to ring. She snatched it up and looked at the screen, a brilliant smile coming over her face as she saw who the caller was. She got up, gesturing to Teddy that she'd be a minute, and answered her call, walking out of the cafeteria as she did so. Teddy watched her go and wondered where this would all lead for her friend. The difficulties of their situation were not lost on her, and for a few minutes, her mind was occupied with how Arizona was ever going to make it work if she was serious about the concert pianist. Not only did they live at opposite ends of the country, but Callie was rarely in one place for very long. They came from completely different worlds too, and had such widely differing interests and lifestyles that sheer physical attraction was not going to keep them together. Teddy kept those thoughts to herself, however, and devoted herself to her sandwich until she saw Arizona making her way back towards their table. She had a slightly stunned expression on her face. _

"_Teddy," she said, an almost panicked note in her voice, "I think you're going to have to come shopping with me."_

Surveying her reflection now, Arizona felt the hours she and Teddy had put into finding the right gown had not been wasted. It had cost an exorbitant amount, together with the shoes, but she now felt prepared to face anything. She shook her head in disbelief—she must really have stepped into the pages of a story, because in her world, she just didn't encounter people who sent private jets to pick up their date for the evening, and return her, Cinderella fashion, before her next procedure. She felt nervous and excited at the same time. She hadn't seen Callie yet—she had been whisked away from the airport and ensconced in a beautiful and luxurious suite of rooms, with the message that Ms. Torres would pick her up at 6:30. It was almost time, and she felt her stomach churn slightly in anticipation.

At precisely 6:30 there was a tap at her door. Smoothing her hands down the front of her gown, and checking one last time that every hair was in place, she went to the door and opened it. For a moment, she thought her heart did a couple of backflips, and she grasped the door handle more firmly as she took in her date for the evening. Callie stood in front of her, glowing like some exotic flower in a shade of carmine that seemed to illuminate the space she stood in. The strapless gown was cut straight across her chest and hugged her tightly to mid-thigh before flaring out in flames of color. Her inky black hair was loose down her back and bare shoulders, tamed slightly into loose curls and shining like her eyes, which were made dangerously alluring with dark make-up. The effect was stunning. Arizona gaped for a good ten seconds before stepping back to let her in.

Callie walked in, exuding her own particular brand of confidence and charm. "Arizona," she said, stepping up to her and leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek, inhaling the subtle fragrance the blonde was wearing. It made her want to linger there against the softness of that cheek, and do things it was way too early in the evening to do. "You look beautiful…"

Arizona found her tongue. "And you look like a bird of paradise, Calliope," she said, closing the room door, and leading Callie further into the suite. There was no response from behind her. Callie had just seen the back of her dress, and stood there yammering on a half sentence, words dying on her lips as she took in that bare expanse of smooth skin, under which the long line of a deliciously defined spine made its way down a tapering torso.

Arizona turned around and saw the dumbstruck look on Callie's face. She felt relieved. She was not the only one, apparently, who felt at a loss for words. "Close your mouth, Calliope," she said softly, coming back towards the brunette, her high heels exaggerating the sway of her hips. She reached out, touching one of the black curls that lay along Callie's shoulder, and tugged on it very gently so that she had to lean forward slightly. "Or can I close it for you?" she breathed, suiting her actions to her words and covering that open mouth with her own.

Callie gasped and closed her eyes as she succumbed to the heat of that embrace. Arizona might look the epitome of elegance tonight—cool and collected like a modern day Grace Kelly—but she was burning hot within, and Callie was momentarily carried away on the tide of undisguised desire. For all they were dressed like symbols of ice and fire, it was, incongruously, the blonde who was turning up the heat right now. She felt that cool hand mold itself to her neck and pull her closer before wandering down over her bare shoulders. Her own hands were greedily acquainting themselves with the bare skin of Arizona's exposed back, and she slipped one under a silver strap, following its line to where it ended under one breast. Lost to all sense of time and place, she pushed her hand under the black material, filling her palm with tender flesh, while she felt Arizona's hand fumble with the zip at the side of her gown.

If her phone had not rung shrilly right then, calling her back to this world, they would not have made it to the recital. Startled, she broke their kiss with an audible pop, and released Arizona who looked a little shocked. Slightly dazed, she looked around for her phone, and found it in her clutch, which she had put down on one of the ornate tables at the entrance to the suite. It was Addison, telling her to hurry up. She was waiting for them in the car.

She put her phone back in her bag, and approached the discomfited blonde, who had gone very red in the face and was cleaning off and re-applying her smudged lipstick. She came up to Arizona from behind, gently untwisting one of the straps that ran across her back, running her fingers along the length of it, feeling the muscles twitch under her feather light touch. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"That was Addie," she said dropping a kiss on the naked shoulder in front of her. "She's waiting for us."

Arizona nodded. "I'm sorry, Calliope," she said, awkwardly. "I don't know what happened there…"

"I do," said Callie sliding her arms around her waist and drawing her back. "You're just too damn hot to handle," she whispered in her ear before letting her go. "Can we put this on hold for a little while?"

XXX

Arizona had to sit through a recital before the banquet, and had the pleasure of having her date sit beside her right through, except for the few minutes during which she performed. Callie told her that she wouldn't normally sit in the audience if she was performing, but didn't want Arizona to sit alone. She took Arizona's hand and led her down the aisle to their seats, while all around them there were murmurs of "Callie Torres" and faintly surprised glances at who was obviously the pianist's date. It was the first time Callie had publicly taken a woman out, and it confirmed some of the rumors that had been circulating about her. More than one curious musician checked out the blonde she was with and wondered why they couldn't place her…was she a foreign musician?

Callie was a fount of information. Before the concert started, she spent some time pointing out the big-wigs of the music world gathered there, and regaled Arizona with funny and rather scandalous stories about many of them. When the lights dimmed and the recital started, she took her hand once more and held it in her lap. Arizona made no demur at the little proprietorial gesture, even finding it rather sweet.

The musicians who were performing that night were those who were in some way connected with the retiring conductor—his students, mentees, and admirers. Arizona knew nothing about the items being performed, and Callie found herself listening to the music from a totally different perspective. In consequence she gave the blonde a little insight into each piece before it was played. Arizona found it helped immensely with understanding the music, a lot of which would otherwise have gone way over her head. As it was, she was zoning out when Callie whispered in her ear that she was on next, and that Arizona was not to fall asleep while she was playing. She leaned closer to Callie and whispered, "If the music doesn't keep me awake, I'm sure the performer will," and surreptitiously kissed her cheek with a quiet "good luck" as the brunette got up to go on stage. A little ripple of sound ran through the audience as she made her way to the stage, and applause broke out as she reached the piano. She bowed, smiling her mega-watt smile, and then sat down at the instrument. She took a minute to compose herself, adjusting the piano stool and looking down at the keys before her in intense concentration. Then she launched into Chopin's Revolutionary Etude.

It is a well-known and popular piece that every self-respecting pianist can play, but the sheer power of Callie's performance, the passion and clarity and strength in every note, the assurance and character behind those declamatory statements kept the audience on the edges of their seats until the piece reached its stormy end. Arizona could not tear her gaze away from the figure at the piano, poised over the keys like the flaming bird of paradise she had called her earlier—every line of her face and body intimately involved in what she was saying through her music. The applause was spontaneous and deafening, and so sustained that she had to indulge her audience with another piece. She played Chopin yet again—his _Fantaisie Impromptu_, which she pulled off with such lyricism that the auditorium echoed to a veritable storm of clapping when she finished. She did not play again, merely acknowledging the applause and making her way off the stage and back to her seat next to Arizona.

Yet another ripple of murmurs ran through the crowd as she regained her seat, many heads craned in their direction, curious eyes peering at them from everywhere. Arizona had never felt quite so noticeable before, and squirmed down in her seat hoping to become less visible.

"Don't hide," Callie said as she sat down. "You are by far the most gorgeous thing anyone here has seen in a long time—so let them stare a little bit. It would be an act of kindness," she went on, taking back the hand she had dropped before going on stage.

XXX

Arizona thought she had never met so many pretentious people before. It was all "Did you enjoy so-and-so-'s interpretation," or "I thought the pedaling was a touch heavy," to which Arizona could not find any appropriate responses. Callie introduced her to some of her friends, who seemed nice enough, though they tended to regard her with suspicion. All except Addison, of course, to whom Arizona had taken an instant liking. The red-head was practical and down-to-earth, and confessed to not having a single musical bone in her body—something Arizona could definitely identify with. Addison found a waiter to get them champagne and canapes, and spent a little time getting to know the woman who seemed to have captivated her best friend. She could understand the attraction—quite apart from her manifold physical attractions, Arizona's bubbly personality, her youthful cheerfulness coupled with a steel determination and strong independence were a beguiling mix; no wonder Callie could think of nothing else these days. She was the perfect foil for her friend, who tended to get a little dark and moody.

Callie never left her side for long, and was being absolutely charming and chivalrous, knowing that Arizona might feel like a fish out of water amongst people with whom she had nothing in common. Her hand rested protectively at the small of her back, at once reassuring and a little possessive. At one point, when Callie left in search of more champagne, she found herself accosted by domineering blonde who looked appraisingly at her with hard blue eyes.

"I don't think we've met before," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Erica Hahn." She cocked her head to one side, considering Arizona. "Have you been seeing Callie long?"

Arizona thought it was none of her business, but smiled politely. "Long enough," she said evasively, thinking that Callie would never have lasted with someone this abrasive. "I'm Arizona Robbins."

"Arizona?" said Erica, wrinkling her nose. "I haven't seen you in these circles before—I would have remembered that name. Have you been abroad?" she pursued, still assuming that Arizona was a musician of some sort.

"No," she answered shortly, not liking how Erica's penetrating gaze ran over her.

"Then I assume you've not really performed much?" Erica went on, a slight sneer indicating that she thought Arizona was a hopeful wannabe trying to further her career by dating Callie.

"I would say your assumption is correct. I haven't performed _at all_," said Arizona with the sweetest of smiles. "At least, not in the sense you mean."

From a circle of people a small distance away, Addison saw Arizona being collared by Erica, and she looked round frantically, wondering where Callie had got to. She finally located her, weaving her way through the crowd with a couple of champagne flutes. Her progress was hampered by the fact that people kept stopping her to congratulate her on her performance. "Callie!" she called out as her friend tried to escape from the clutches of a garrulous old man, "Over there!" she mouthed, catching Callie's eye and pointing in Arizona's direction.

Callie's eyes widened in dismay as she saw what Addison was pointing at, and she excused herself hurriedly. She made her way over to Erica and Arizona as fast as she could without tripping on the voluminous flare of her gown. "Sorry I took so long," she said, handing a glass to Arizona, and slipping an arm round her waist. It was territorial and Arizona found it amusing. She could look after herself after all.

"Thank you, Calliope," she said. "I think I need this after listening to all that…stuff."

"I'm sorry—were you very bored? I tried to give you some context, you know." Callie smiled apologetically, while Erica's face scrunched in confusion. Stuff? That was how this woman had described the performances of some of the best musicians in the country?

"Arizona is a surgeon," Callie explained, seeing Erica's face. "She doesn't know an etude from a C major scale."

"I do happen to be able to recognize a scale, Calliope, give me some credit."

Erica looked mortified. "Wow," she said, raising her eyebrows. "A surgeon, huh? Widening your dating pool, Calliope?"

Callie sighed. Erica _would_ find it in her to be nasty. "Don't call me that," she said, automatically. "Erica, would you please excuse us? I want to introduce Arizona to Maesro Giulini." She led Arizona away, and Erica watched them depart, a sneer forming on her face. They'd soon see how long _that_ would last.

XXX

Dinner was a gourmet seven course meal, and took absolutely forever. Arizona had been ready for it to end around the time the sorbet was brought in, but they were still there, one hour later, hoping that it wouldn't be rude if they left before the coffee came around. To add to it, there had been a number of speeches extolling the retiring musician's many virtues and achievements, and now, it was almost time for Arizona to leave. It had been tortuous, having Callie so close, looking delicious and so desirable, and being unable to do anything about it. Somewhere between the sorbet and the entrée, she felt a hand settle on her knee and slide ever so slowly upwards. She tried not to jump like a startled fawn, and looked sideways at Callie, who ignored her and went on talking to the cellist sitting beside her. She slipped her hand under the tablecloth, catching the one that was inching up her thigh, warm fingers tickling her through the material of her gown. She was both glad and sorry her dress didn't have a long slit—there was no telling where that wandering hand might have ended up.

Callie had teased her subtly from that point on, leaning just a little too close to her sometimes, letting her breath wash over Arizona's ear, removing an imaginary stray sliver thread from Arizona's back and sweeping her fingertips gently down her spine, and a hundred other tiny touches and looks that set the blonde's nerves on fire. By the time dinner finished, she was ready to pull Callie into the nearest bathroom or elevator, or even closet, and teach her a lesson. But it was late, and there was a plane waiting to take her back to Seattle.

The ride back to their hotel was fraught with tension. Addison wondered if they'd quarreled, they were so silent—and she filled the empty air with all the gossip she had garnered that night in a bid to ease the strain. She only got half-hearted distracted responses from Callie, and none at all from Arizona, who didn't know the people she was talking about anyway. She was only too glad to leave them a little while later, after they'd reached their hotel and the elevator stopped at her floor.

The moment the elevator doors closed, Callie found herself trapped between its side and a very predatory-looking blonde. "You want to play with fire, Calliope?" the question came out in a harsh whisper, and she leaned into the brunette, pressing the entire length of her body against her. Callie's hands gripped her waist, and slid down to curve around her bottom and pull her in.

"I think I can handle the heat," she said, closing the tiny gap between them and claiming the blonde's lips in a kiss that set their senses ablaze. Neither of them heard the elevator ding, signaling they'd arrived on Arizona's floor until a discreet cough brought them back down to earth. A distinctly embarrassed hotel guest got on the elevator, looking away pointedly.

They exited in haste, Arizona almost dragging Callie the few steps to her suite. The inevitable impatient fumble with the key card over with, Callie was pinned against the door, and whatever self-control she had left systematically decimated by the hands, lips, tongue and teeth of the blonde who was aggressively stealing every thought from her mind, every breath from her body. Arizona's hand found its way to the zipper at the side of Callie's dress for the second time that night, and she paused for a moment as she grasped the tab, waiting for Callie's permission.

"Wait…wait!" Callie was desperate for more contact, but she also had a foggy recollection that Arizona was supposed to be getting back to Seattle tonight. She caught Arizona's hand. "You have to be at the airport soon."

Arizona hissed in impatience as she released Callie. Her pupils looked enormous and dark, and Callie noticed the flush that had settled along her face and chest with interest. She wanted to remove that gown which had tantalized her all evening and really get to grips with the body underneath. Looking at the blonde, she realized she just couldn't do it—she could not resist or hold off any longer, the temptation was too great and she lacked sufficient control. Pulling Arizona back against her, she pressed her mouth to her ear, first biting and then sucking on it gently as a whimper escaped Arizona's lips.

"The plane can wait. I'll get you back in time for your surgery."

**A/N: Don't throw things! I know, I'm mean but I had to stop it there or this chapter would have gone on forever. I promise I won't keep you waiting too long. I'm also kind of on the fence about changing the rating of this story to M right now-what do you think?**


	9. Chapter 9

Callie's world exploded into a million shards of light, again. She fell back against her pillows, utterly consumed; her body was on fire, her senses ablaze, even her nerve endings ready to go off like firecrackers—_still_, after _hours_ with the blonde. She felt like she had finally found the positive charge to her negative, and the violence with which they had come together had generated enough heat to melt the very walls that surrounded them. It was uncontrolled, violent, wild—a lightning storm that lit her world up in harsh jagged streaks of brilliance, only to plunge into darkness and crash about her again in waves of thunder.

She tangled her hand in the blonde mane that was fanned over her chest, pulling insistently until its owner crawled a little further up her body to bury her face in Callie's neck. Arizona was not an easy lover. She was every bit as dominant as Callie, and this made for some interesting friction in the first frenzied meeting of their bodies. Callie couldn't remember when sex had ever felt this electrifying.

She smoothed her free hand down Arizona's back. Her skin was hot, still burning under her touch. Callie's fingers traced a path over those defined shoulder blades, now bearing the marks of her fingernails, and followed the contour of that lean back down to the gentle curve of her hips. Hips that fit in her hands like they had been made for them, hips that she had had to hold down forcefully a little while ago to stop them bucking under her mouth. She had watched them undulate against her as the blonde rode her hand in an attitude of complete abandon—back arched, head tipped back, hair spilling down her back, thighs gripping her sides ferociously. Callie had felt her insides combust just from watching. Moments before, Arizona had pinned her hands above her head in a vice-like grip and hovered above Callie's stretched form like a beautiful bird of prey, watching her writhe in agonies of pleasure at what her other hand was doing.

Callie tugged a little more gently on her fistful of hair, pulling Arizona's head away from the crook of her neck. Eyes closed and breathing heavily, tiny beads of moisture collecting along her upper lip, Arizona looked spent. Callie kissed that upper lip, gathering the salty beads of sweat on her tongue, and for perhaps the first time since they had fallen into bed that night, allowed herself to be gentle. The white-hot heat of passion brought down to a simmer, she now took time to appreciate the finer details about the woman resting in her arms, who had driven her to such extremes tonight. She took in the faint dusting of freckles across the small straight nose—one that only _just_ escaped the retroussé—the decisive pointed chin, and the firm mouth that entranced her with its slightly asymmetrical smile. When Callie kissed that mouth for the third time, Arizona opened her eyes. Callie looked into those eyes of a myriad hues of blue and felt herself tumbling, drawn in and ensnared in invisible threads of emotion she dared not put a name to.

"You're turning me into a pillow princess," she said softly, stroking a forefinger along Arizona's cheek. Surprised at how gravelly her voice came out, she cleared her throat.

"Screaming my name will do that to you," Arizona smiled smugly. She adjusted her position, slipping off Callie and turning onto her back, lying still for a moment before reaching out and pulling the tired brunette on top of her. "There," she said, as Callie settled her weight on her and slid a knee between her thighs. "That better?"

Callie leaned on her elbows, looking down. She moved a strand of hair away from Arizona's face and tucked it behind her ear, studying the face below her. A small smile tugged at her mouth. Arizona saw it and responded with her own crooked smirk. "What are you thinking?" she enquired, twinkling up at Callie and tracing her smile with a finger. Callie took the inquisitive digit in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, thinking, as she did so, that the very same digit had been buried knuckle deep inside her not too long ago. The thought made her squirm and press her knee a little more firmly against Arizona. "I was thinking," she said, as the blonde let a small gasp escape her lips, "that looks can be deceiving."

"Yeah?" was the response. "And how have I deceived you?"

Callie reached down and pulled one of those long legs up around her. "You look..." she searched for the right word, "so chaste…" she said, noting the little crinkle in Arizona's brow as she tried to follow, "Like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. But you're an _animal_ on the inside, Dr. Robbins." The blonde chuckled and showed her teeth in what she imagined was a ferocious snarl. Callie thought it absolutely cute and told her so, making Arizona lean up slightly to kiss her. She lingered there, her tongue recognizing traces of herself on those plump, full lips. "Well, Maggie says _you're_ a tigress," she murmured against Callie's mouth. "And after tonight, I have to say I agree."

"I'm flattered," said Callie, transferring her attention to Arizona's throat, letting out a muffled laugh as she almost purred with satisfaction, stretching and turning her neck in invitation. "You like that?"

"God, your mouth…" Arizona paused and exhaled sharply as she felt teeth against her skin. "Unh…Calli—oh…" she attempted rather unsuccessfully to get a coherent thought out and got no response. Callie was fully occupied, her mouth busy with something other than making words.

"Uhm…you're not giving me...oooh god….a huge hickey, are you?"

Callie paused for a moment, and then her laugh rang out suddenly. She was truly amused about something. She looked down at Arizona and shifted slightly so that the blonde could see her clearly. "That horse has long bolted, honey," she chuckled, "You're shutting the stable door a little late in the day."

True enough. It was a little late for such considerations now. In the heat of the moment, neither had registered anything beyond the almost painful pleasure provoked by the nipping, sucking and biting they had indulged in. Arizona gasped as she took in Callie's upper body, and with one finger, traced a rosy ring marking the side of one breast. She grimaced as she saw a similar pattern at the base of Callie's neck. "God, I'm sorry. I don't even remember…"

Callie settled back down. "Don't be sorry," she said as she nuzzled an ear. "So I'll have to wear a scarf for a couple of days. Small price to pay…" Her eyes glinted wickedly down at the blonde. "Do you know where you left another one of those?"

Arizona shook her head. Callie took her hand and guided it down between their bodies. "Right here," she said, placing Arizona's hand high on the inside of her thigh. "Hurts a little," she lied, grinning, as Arizona ran her fingers over the smooth skin she found there.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?"

"You're just tired of being topped, aren't you?"

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Calliope. Or in this case, a tigress—and I'll show you how if you come up here." With that, Callie found herself being pulled upwards by insistent hands. Arizona hooked her hands behind Callie's thighs and drew her upwards until she was kneeling, one knee on either side of Arizona's head, and grasping the bed head for support. Her breath seemed to stall in her chest, and then come in ragged pants as she felt hands slide up the backs of her thighs. A moment later, she found herself clutching the bed head even harder as she felt a tongue trace the pattern of teeth on the inside of her thigh. "Oh God…" the moan escaped her as she felt that mouth settle at her core.

"You can call me Arizona," was the last thing she heard from the blonde before she lost the use of her faculties for _n_th time that night.

XXX

"Hey," Arizona felt a hand shake her shoulder gently. "Wake up. You need to get going if you're to get back home in time." Arizona ignored the voice. She was too tired to move. She groaned in protest as fingers tickled her ribs. "Wake up, beautiful." Surely it hadn't been more than ten minutes since she fell asleep.

"I can't move," she grumbled, shutting her eyes more firmly. Lips pressed against her cheek. "Please open your eyes, cariño." Grudgingly, she complied. She felt herself being raised into a sitting position, and a warm body slip behind her. She leaned back against Callie, luxuriating in the brunette's embrace as her mind regained its focus.

"Calliope?"

She felt arms tighten around her, and a small puff of air near her ear. "Yeah?"

"I wish one of us didn't always have to leave."

"I know." Callie half turned Arizona so that she could see her face. "I want to keep you right here, just like this," she said, and was about to add the word 'forever' when she thought the better of it.

The blonde put her head on Callie's shoulder and looked up lazily under her lashes. "You mean all naked and afterglowy?" she asked, relishing the boneless and completely sated feeling that permeated her being this morning.

"Yes, that's exactly how," Callie said, pressing her cheek to the top of Arizona's head and cradling her against her body. "Afterglow looks so good on you."

"So when do you think you might see me wear it again?"

"Is that a subtle way of asking me when I'm coming back?"

Arizona put her arm up around Callie's neck. "I wasn't being subtle Calliope. I'd come to New York if I could—but I don't think I have more than a day off for the next few weeks. And I really don't think I'll be able to make it that long without seeing you."

Callie grinned. The admission made her want to do a little victory dance. "I have to be back in New York today, and for the next two weeks my schedule is pretty packed. But after that, I think I have a whole weekend off."

"Two weeks?" Arizona was dismayed. The thought of leaving Callie was bad enough, but the idea of not seeing her for two weeks was unbearable. The hot-tempered Latina had stormed her way into Arizona's life, and she was very much afraid that she had taken her heart as well. She felt ridiculously close to tears, and turned her face into Callie's neck, hoping she wouldn't notice. Damn, she was supposed to be hardcore, and here she was, swimming in emotion soup after one night of sex. One _heartstopping_ night of sex.

She felt Callie's fingers under her chin, pushing it up, and a moment later the brunette was kissing her—deep and warm, dizzyingly long and sensuous. She returned the embrace, succumbing to the seductive power of Callie's unspoken reassurances. They remained clinched tightly for long minutes—each second that ticked by eroding their determination to part ways. At length, Arizona pulled away.

"I should get dressed."

"Yeah. Yeah you should." Callie released her, and watched as she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom. She bit her lip in frustration as the bathroom door closed. All she wanted to do was get on that plane with Arizona and make pretty damn sure she never lost sight of her again. Last night had only proved what she had felt the moment she clapped eyes on the her. So this was what the French called le flash?

XXX

Arizona had almost not made it back in time for her surgery. She was five minutes late scrubbing in, and had to take a number of snide remarks from Dr. Stark, on the licentious ways of certain surgeons who thought they were above rules. She took the 'licentious' remark without comment—she probably did look like she'd been up all night, up to no good, and still operating only on euphoria. And one cup of coffee.

Now, a few hours later, and still operating on the one cup of coffee and no breakfast, she felt her tummy protest. She needed lunch, but she needed to shower and change first. She wrinkled her nose with distaste as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had definitely looked better. One of her patients had thrown up on her—her scrub top still had traces of vomit on it, and she smelled awful. Her face was interestingly pale, and the beginnings of shadows under her eyes advertised a sleepless night. Running her fingers through her tangled hair, she turned her head so that she could inspect her neck and sighed with relief. Callie had been much more considerate towards her than she had been to Callie. Involuntarily, she smiled. Calliope. The very _sound_ of her name was like music…her mind wandered, dwelling pleasantly on Callie, memories of their night together making her uncomfortably hot. She shook herself mentally. It would not do to get lost in daydreams of Calliope right now. Crossing her arms in front of her and grabbing the hem of her top, she dragged it over her head. She reached for clean scrubs, and let out a startled squeak when a voice spoke behind her suddenly.

"You have sex with a wildcat last night?" Teddy was standing behind her, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Arizona had been so preoccupied, she hadn't even heard the locker room door open. Teddy let out a low whistle as she came closer, and Arizona whipped around to face her, the new scrub top clutched to her chest.

"What?"

"You heard me." Teddy placed her hands on Arizona's shoulders and positioned her with her back to the mirror. "That must have been some roll in the hay for you not to realize you had these." Craning her neck over her shoulder, Arizona saw the red parallel scratches on her back and colored in embarrassment. Of course she knew they were there—they'd stung like crazy when she'd taken a shower before leaving Callie that morning. She kicked herself for forgetting. She had just given Teddy about a year's worth of ammunition in teasing.

Teddy watched the red stain spreading down her friend's face and neck and smiled evilly. "I want details. Now go shower and meet me for lunch, red-hot lover. I bet your girlfriend wouldn't come within ten feet of you if she saw what you look and smell like right now."

Arizona gave Teddy the bird. "Whatever. You're just jealous," she said, turning to flounce into the shower. "And she's not my girlfriend." She waited until she was sure Teddy had left, and added, "Yet."

Halfway through lunch, Mark joined them, approaching their table with a careless and rather loud greeting of "Hey Blondie. You're back. You get wine-dine-sixty-nined down in LA?"

"MARK!" The two women glared at him, and looked furtively around at the group of residents at the next table, who had turned to stare. "What is _wrong_ with you?" Teddy hissed, grabbing the sleeve of his lab coat and pulling him down. Mark sat down grinning, and bit noisily into his apple.

"Come on. Blondie is wearing her sex-night on her sleeve," he said, as if that were explanation enough.

"Shut up, Mark. And by the way, you just admitted that you like listening to angry young women. That was smart."

Mark gave Teddy a sheepish look and hedged, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. Alanis Morissette, circa 1995. You just stole her lyrics. "

Arizona and Teddy giggled. "We see right through you," added Arizona, rubbing it in. "And for your information, the answer is yes, to all of the above," she added brazenly, laughing out loud when Mark looked at her incredulously and all but choked on his apple.

Four hours later, Arizona was still at the hospital, almost dead on her feet and changing again after being the target of yet another vomiting incident with the same patient. She really had to learn to keep her distance she thought, as she headed for the shower. All she wanted now was to roll into bed and sleep till next week, but she had two more hours left on this shift. As the water slicked over her for the third time that day, she wondered idly whether Callie was on her flight, and what time she'd be landing in New York. New York…two and a half thousand miles and a six hour flight away. It _would_ happen to her. She shook her head in disbelief—it seemed almost surreal. She had met Callie by chance, fought bitterly with her and then proceeded to fall desperately in love. It scared her silly.

She was still pondering the logistical labyrinth that a relationship with Callie would entail when she got back to the peds ward. Maggie was on the lookout for her and called out as she saw Arizona.

"Dr. Robbins!"

Arizona turned to look, and saw Maggie beckoning her over. She had the strangest smile on her face—knowing and rather sly. On the counter of her station stood a bouquet of the most gorgeous camellias—large, pure white blooms with pristine petals that clustered round the center in circles of geometric perfection. Interspersed between the white were soft blooms of the most delicate shade of pink.

"These arrived for you," Maggie said, indicating the flowers. Arizona walked up to the nurse's station and looked at the flowers, touching the silky petals of one of the pink ones.

"They're absolutely beautiful," she said, searching for the card that should have come with them.

"They're white camellias," Maggie said meaningfully, wondering if Arizona had any idea of what the flowers were or what they meant.

"Oh, are they? Is that significant?"

Maggie glared. "With _pink_ ones in between, Dr. Robbins," she said, obviously desperate for Arizona to get a message.

"Yeah. I can see that Maggie. And I can guess who sent them," Arizona responded, blushing slightly. She finally found a small card among the flowers and pulled it out. It didn't say very much.

"The flowers speak for me," she read, and it was signed with a large "C."

She turned to the gloating nurse. "Tell me," she demanded. "What is the significance?" She should have known—with Callie, flowers always meant something specific. There had to be something special about her choice.

"White Camellias say 'You are adorable,' said Maggie, "While pink ones say 'I long for you.' I gotta hand it to her, the girl's got style. That's downright romantic!" and she put her chin in her hand and looked at the flowers, misty eyed.

XXX

Callie heard her phone beep and pulled it out. Addison, sitting next to her in the backseat of the car that had picked them up at JFK, saw her check her message and smile.

"She liked your flowers, huh?"

"Yup." Callie showed Addison the message, since she was obviously curious. It was pretty innocuous, just a line that said "They're almost as beautiful as you. I miss you too."

"Aww. That's sweet. I kind of like this one, Callie. Keep her."

Callie grinned, happy that her best friend approved. "I have every intention of doing that. Though I have no clue _how_, right now. I just know that I can't wait two whole weeks without seeing her."

"You're going to have to, Cal. I'm sorry—you've got concerts in Miami this week. Your dad is so excited about having you stay for a couple of days. And after that you're due to play in Montreal, remember?"

"God, Canada in winter? What possessed us to say yes to that? Now Miami I can deal with." Addison didn't reply. She gave Callie one of her looks, and busied herself with answering e-mails on her phone. Callie was actually looking forward to seeing her family. Her father had been extremely curious about her burning need to borrow one of his aircraft, and had very acutely guessed that it was for a romantic interest of some kind. He had made her promise to tell him everything when she arrived in Miami, and she couldn't wait to tell him about Arizona.

Callie looked out at the rainy, sleety streets, and winced as too-bright headlights hit her eyes as they whizzed past. She leaned back on the seat and touched the cold glass of her window, tracing the paths of the raindrops that chased one another down its length. The car slowed down and stopped at an intersection, and the raindrops now ran in straight lines down the glass, rather than diagonally across it. Callie noted it only because the silvery diagonal lines of the raindrops reminded her of Arizona's dress last night. The silver straps that had stretched across her back and covered absolutely nothing. Callie's mind was dwelling agreeably on how it had felt to slide that tantalizing dress off its wearer. She didn't feel the car start to move again as the light turned green. What did register was the sound of squealing tires, and the blare of a car horn—was it theirs? She couldn't tell. She turned her head to find the source of the shrieking tires and was blinded by the sight of oncoming headlights. Time slowed down and froze. Their driver shouted something; his voice came out warped as if he was speaking underwater. She saw how the slanting raindrops were lit up in the huge oncoming beams of light—_now_ their car would move out of range of those lights, now—

The last thing she heard before everything went black was Addison's scream of terror.

**A/N: Now don't everyone threaten to throw me out of a window! (Yeah, that got to me) You know what they say- into every story a little angst must fall. The road is going to be a little bumpy for a while, but it'll be of relatively short duration, I promise. I like these two together far too much to do anything too drastic.**

**Thank you for all the wonderful comments and responses to the last chapter, I love feedback! And of course, thank you for those prompts to update. And in conclusion, let all inveterate shippers like myself remember the words** **of Dido... "I will go down with this ship..." ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

Noise. It was noisy and she couldn't figure out what it was. Constant, regular noise, growing louder and louder in the darkness. Why was it dark? She was dreaming, of course. It was one of those dreams that caught you right at the surface of wakefulness—the ones that seem so real that you feel you're not dreaming at all…but then you try to move or talk, and your limbs are weighted down and your mouth opens on a scream but is silent. And you scream and you scream that silent grotesque scream, struggling to break through the surface, and all the while your body is being drawn down into a bottomless abyss. And for now, the abyss seems like a good place to be. The noise faded as she gave in to gravity. She opened her eyes as her body floated down…she could sense something hovering there at the edge of her consciousness. Something familiar. She felt comforted and closed her eyes again.

The next time she floated up from the darkness, she managed to get all the way to the surface and stick a hand out for help. She opened her mouth to call out, and was surprised to hear a sound come out. It wasn't her voice, was it? That hoarse grating? Someone touched her. Called her name. She couldn't seem to get her eyes open. And there was something else, rolling over her like waves of a tsunami. Pain. She felt the darkness call out to her, and she turned gratefully back into the engulfing blackness.

Once more, she was floating upwards. Light was breaking through and it hurt her eyes. Along with the light came the pain, slamming into her and pushing her down as she fought to rise. This time someone took her hand firmly and spoke to her in a no-nonsense voice, both familiar and loved.

"Calliope Iphigenia Torres, do _not_ ignore me _one_ more time." The last few words of the sentence cracked slightly, and she thought she simply _had_ to open her eyes to see what was making her dad get all choked up. It took superhuman effort, but her eyelids finally rose with a protest like doors being forced open after a hundred years of inactivity. The light struck her like a sledgehammer. Light…lights, growing ever closer…screeching brakes, squealing tires, the sickening crunch of metal on metal. She screamed, long and hard—but all that came out of her throat was a hollow snarl.

Then her father was hovering over her, holding her hand, speaking in that reassuring tone he had used to comfort her as a child. He told her she'd been in an accident, but she was safe now and in hospital. She'd been mostly unconscious for two days. She looked at his worried face and asked the first question her mind presented.

"Addie?"

"Addison is ok, mija. She's sustained a few injuries, but it was the side you were on that got the brunt of the collision."

Injuries. Addison had injuries and she hadn't been on the side that met the impact. In dawning horror she realized what her father had just said. In wild panic she looked away from her father and down at herself. She didn't even see her leg dressed and encased in a brace. She didn't feel the bandages round her head or the pain in her side. The only thing she could take in was the fact that her right arm was immobilized. Her foggy mind reeling with dread, she wiggled her fingers. They didn't move.

"No..."

That was all she managed to get out before the darkness rose up to claim her again. She let go of the terror that flooded her, welcoming and submerging herself in the numbness of oblivion.

XXX

_**Two weeks later**_

"Callie, look at me. Please."

She turned her head away. She did not want to look at Addison. If she did, this black _thing_ that was coiled in the pit of her stomach was going to erupt and spew its venom over everything. She could feel it squirming, writhing inside, so full of anger and fear and hate. She didn't want to see Addison. Addison who had not broken her humerus, who had not got half the metal in the Eiffel Tower in her leg, whose radial nerve was working just fine, and whose fingers could open and close and move as she wished. Addison, who had been in the same car with her, who had only escaped because she, Callie, had been between her and the SUV that had skidded out of control and careened into the side of their car. Addison whose life did not depend on the use of her hand. Addison was fine. And Callie couldn't bring herself to look at her. So she turned her head away and squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the black despair that lay coiling in her tummy to come out and settle heavily on her chest.

"Callie?" Addison's voice was small and tearful. "Please, just talk to me. To _anyone_." She waited by Callie's bedside, hoping her friend would show some sign of having heard. Show some reaction. The Callie she knew seemed to have gone far away, buried herself beyond reach of anyone and anything, and in its place was an empty-eyed automaton who would not speak a word.

Addison was worried, as was Carlos Torres. Callie's reaction to her injuries had been extreme. Given how paranoid she was about her hands, it was perhaps understandable—but now she was making no effort to get better, and there was every reason to do so.

Callie had sustained injuries on her right side—the side that had been closest to the oncoming vehicle. She had escaped with her life because of the side airbags with which their car had been equipped, and the fact that the driver of the SUV had been all but standing on his brake pedal for long seconds before the impact, slowing the car down and lessening the force of the collision. Nevertheless, she had a severe fracture of the humerus, and a comminuted femur fracture. She had bruised and broken ribs, and a laceration to the side of her face that had required plastic surgery. Callie was not even aware of it—she didn't even seem to care that she had a scar running along her hairline from temple to cheek, or that her hair had been cut short. She didn't seem to care about her leg, or feel the pain of her broken ribs. She was only aware that her broken humerus had caused damage to her radial nerve, which in turn had compromised her ability to extend her wrist and fingers. It was like she had been handed a death sentence.

Her doctors had tried again and again to reassure Callie that with time, treatment and therapy, the nerve would repair. She didn't seem to hear them, she was lost in some nightmare and Addison couldn't fathom what was going on in her head. It had been two weeks since she had found out the extent of her injuries, and she had been all but non-responsive since then.

"Callie, it's going to be ok…your hand…. Are you listening? Can you hear me?" Addison approached the bed cautiously and touched Callie's left hand. For the first time in ten days, she felt a reaction. The hand was torn out of her grasp, and Callie turned her head to glare at her friend. Addison was shocked at what she saw seething in those eyes, which had turned black with fury.

"How do you know?" she snarled. "How can you stand there and pretend to understand anything? You don't know _anything_. You don't know. You don't have screws and rods and plates in your _bones_, Addison. I do. I'm the one whose hand is fucked. Do you have the _slightest_ idea what it feels like to know your _life_ is over? NO! So don't stand there and say things are going to be ok, because you're lying! And you're doing it to make yourself feel better." By the time she finished, Callie was shouting, tears of rage pouring down her face.

Addison took a step back, shaken by the intensity of that reaction. She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. "I know you need someone to blame. I know that you're angry, and if it helps you to be angry with me, I don't mind. Believe me, I know the only reason I'm standing here today is because you were between me and that truck." She swiped her cheeks. "I _don't_ know what it's like for you. I escaped with a broken wrist and some cuts and bruises, and I know you wish it had been the other way around. Believe me, I wish it too." She stepped back up to Callie's hospital bed, determined to keep her talking, even if it meant getting into a shouting match.

"Go away, Addison. Just leave me alone." Callie had stopped shouting, and she was subsiding into her semi-catatonic state.

"Oh no, you're not." Addison grabbed her left hand and gripped it hard. "Come on, what else you got to say to me? Spit it out."

"You want me to say it? Ok, I will. _I _wanted to stay in LA one more day, go back to Seattle—" at the mention of Seattle, a sudden shock seemed to pass through her, and she gasped for breath. "But you…but _**you**__ insisted_…Seattle…Oh, god…" The fight seemed to go out of her and she crumpled back on her pillows. Addison thought it safe to come closer. She touched Callie's cheek, and when she was not pushed away, wiped the tears that flowed out of the corners of her eyes, wetting the pillow.

"I can't _breathe_, Addie. I can't think. What am I going to do? Music is who I _am_. How can I go on when there's no _me _anymore?" The tears seemed to flow endlessly, and she didn't complain when Addison pulled up a chair beside her, and keeping a firm hold on her hand, said, "Well, you can start by listening to me."

XXX

"Let me call her," Addison said for perhaps the seventeenth time, as she wheeled Callie out of the psychiatrist's office.

Callie was sick and tired of sitting in front of her shrink and telling her about how she felt. She _felt_ she didn't need constant reminding of how much her life sucked right now. She _felt_ that no amount of talking about it was going to change anything. She _didn't_ tell her that she felt like half a person. She didn't tell her that she felt like her soul had been ripped from her body.

"No," was her curt response. "Besides, my phone was smashed to pieces. I don't even have her number anymore."

"You're being ridiculous. I can call the hospital."

"I'm not. I don't want her to see me like this."

Addison clicked her tongue. Callie indicated her face, of which she had suddenly become extremely conscious, and then gestured at the rest of her body. "Look at me, Addie," she said quietly, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I'm a mess. And I don't want her to be with me out of pity."

Addison was familiar with this argument. They'd been going over it and over it for days, and Callie could not get away from the idea that she was now somehow lesser, unattractive and unworthy of anyone's attention. As if music and the force of her physical presence had defined her as a person, and now she was a nonentity.

Addison had had to cancel all Callie's concert appearances for the next several months, and at the brunette's request, had kept the news of her accident from becoming public knowledge. Callie had said she didn't want visitors, or faux-friends who were actually rivals coming to see her and secretly jubilating over her misfortune. She was known for being blunt and forthright—she said what she had to say the simplest way, even if it sounded rude, and this habit of calling a spade a spade had made her a feared critic and adversary to those who deemed themselves her competitors.

She had never been vain—she had always rather carelessly taken her good looks as a given, and had never had occasion to spend much time in front of her mirror. Now however, Addison saw her looking at herself often, inspecting her scars, grimacing at the sight of her leg in its brace. This dependence on others irked her. The scar on the side of her face, though slightly pink and visible now, would soon be hardly noticeable, half-hidden in her hairline as it was. She hated her short hair, even though it suited her, and had taken to wearing it parted to the side and falling over the right side of her face to hide her scar. She was acutely aware of the fact that she had metal plates and screws inside her body—it seemed grossly unnatural to her, and this seemed to gnaw relentlessly at her subconscious. So much so that she would often wake up in a cold sweat, having dreamed that the screws had somehow worked themselves loose and were cutting through the nerves and muscles of her arm.

"I thought you really liked her?"

Callie's face twisted in pain. Her insides seemed to be constantly awash in panic and conflict these days. Panic that she would never feel the keys of a piano under her fingers again, never pull the stool up to that great black instrument, never have the privilege of speaking to the world in the only language that the whole world could understand. Never see the lights of a concert hall again. And panic that Arizona Robbins probably hated her now. It had been almost a month, and Callie had not called her. There was no way she could call her _now_—Arizona wouldn't want to speak to her. She badly wanted to call—she longed to hear her voice, tell her what had happened, seek comfort in her strength and optimism. At the same time, she felt too ugly and useless and unattractive now to allow Arizona to look at her. The conflict within raged on.

"I did," she told Addison. "I _do_…so much more than _like_ her. Too much to let her get involved in the shitstorm that is my life now."

XXX

When Callie didn't call her the day after she got back to New York, Arizona didn't worry. She thought Callie was probably tired and resting after her busy week in LA, and even busier final night there. When she didn't call the next day, Arizona was puzzled, and just a little uneasy. She called Callie, only to be told by a recording that the phone she was calling was switched off, or not in a mobile service area. And god knew, there were precious few areas that _didn't_ have mobile service coverage in the state of New York. It was odd, but she left it for the rest of the day, thinking that Callie might be rehearsing for something or another. Nevertheless, she felt a little hurt.

When she tried Callie's phone the following day and got the same recorded message, she began to get worried. Callie didn't strike her as the sort of person to would drop her after one night. She was fairly certain that Callie was as enamored of her as she was of Callie—she couldn't have been mistaken about the vibes she got from the brunette could she? The way Callie had looked at her? Held her? What about the flowers with their "I long for you" message? Yet…why hadn't she called? It had been three days, and now it was becoming just rude. You just didn't sleep with someone, tell them (symbolically) that you adored them, and then forget them. She wasn't forgettable—she was Arizona Robbins and her middle name was awesome.

When five days had passed and there was no word from Callie, she started scanning the arts sections of newspapers, and even googled for news in the world of classical music. Callie was one of the big names, and therefore anything she did was newsworthy. She got nothing. So…she could deduce that Callie was still alive, and not calling her because she didn't want to.

The realization hit her after a week of radio silence. Callie was not going to call.

If she had felt devastated after Carly's cheating and their subsequent break-up, there really wasn't a term strong enough to describe how she felt at the thought of never seeing Callie again. What she felt for Callie, she had never in her life experienced before—not even with Carly. She had fallen so fast and so hard that she had shocked herself.

She castigated herself about how stupid she had been. She had been so unguarded—left herself open to attack and succumbed without a fight. She had not even tried to put up any defense. It must have been ridiculously easy. Like taking candy from a baby. When she tried calling again, she was told that the number she had dialed was not in existence. Could a message be any clearer? As the weeks wore on, and she still didn't hear from Callie, she only conclusion she could come to was that she had just been another conquest for the brunette. And yet…why go through all the trouble? Fly across the country to see her? Send her father's freaking _jet_ to pick her up for a date? It didn't make sense. If all she had wanted was to screw her, why hadn't she just gone ahead that night when they had come back to Arizona's apartment after their date? Callie could have had her then, because Arizona had been more than willing. These thoughts went around and around in her head constantly, but behind her anger and hurt was a niggling doubt, an elusive fear that something was not right. Most often, however, she was just too angry to analyze that fear.

Mark and Teddy didn't know what to make of it. Mark was no fool, and could sniff out a bullshit artist at thirty paces, and Callie hadn't set his super senses off. They didn't know how to help their friend, who seemed so hurt and confused. And heartbroken. She was not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, but it was hard to keep her mask on. Hard to be cheerful and maintain a semblance of normalcy when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. Which she did, often, in the privacy of her bedroom.

After a month, Mark tried taking her out for drinks and Teddy tried setting her up with a really cute nurse from cardio. Arizona tagged along dutifully for drinks, drank tequila till she couldn't stand and threw up in Mark's car. The next time he tried to be a good friend, he made sure it didn't involve alcohol. Or his car. The nurse proved to be smart and funny and really rather sexy, but Arizona kissed her at the end of the first date and didn't call her back. As kisses went, it wasn't bad. But it hadn't made her pulse race, or her heart want to beat out of her chest. Callie had only to come within a foot of her to get that reaction. And her kiss? Nothing would ever compare.

Callie had so completely and utterly spoiled her for anyone else.

**A/N: Well, sorry if this was a bit of a downer, especially at this point in time when things are looking rather grey ;) on the show. Things will start to look up soon. (In my story, that is. Goodness knows about anything else. Sob.) **


	11. Chapter 11

"Damn it, Carly," Arizona muttered under her breath. Why the hell couldn't she just leave her alone? Carly kept calling and texting, and she had recently taken to sending Arizona pictures of her baby, Emily. Granted, she was a very cute baby, and sure to be as good-looking as her mother someday, but Arizona had absolutely no interest anymore, in Carly or her baby. She had no desire to know about Carly's life, her perfect husband and their happy little family. She scrolled through the options on her phone, deciding that she was going to block Carly's number. She should have done so long ago, she thought, as she looked at the last picture she had received. Carly was looking good—she hadn't taken long to get back in shape after her baby. She looked as slim and toned and leggy as ever, her fair complexion was glowing and those emerald green eyes of hers peeked cheekily out from under long, silky chestnut bangs. Arizona took a moment to appreciate the loveliness of her ex before blocking her off her list of contacts once and for all. Closed chapter. Just like the latest closed chapter of her life. The one she just couldn't seem to accept was over…it felt like her hand was hovering over the cover of this book without slamming it shut. She was trapped in this story and couldn't find her way out.

She was lost in thought, totally abstracted as she waited for the elevator to take her up to peds. She didn't notice when Robert Stark got on until he had cleared his throat and 'harrump'd twice. She looked up, the noise pulling her out of her rather sad thoughts. Dr. Stark was staring at her in that strangely penetrating way he had.

"Are you alright, Dr. Robbins?" The sneering tone he habitually adopted with her was conspicuously absent, and he just sounded concerned. To her intense mortification, she felt the tears that she kept so carefully under control suddenly prick her eyes. The unlooked-for kindness in the tone of this man who was usually so completely insensitive seemed to affect her more than the concern and sympathy of her friends. She looked down quickly, gazing at the blank screen of her phone which was still in her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine Dr. Stark." She said quickly, not meeting his eyes.

"You've been…well, let's say you've been a little subdued lately."

Arizona was surprised the man had even noticed. "I'm just a little tired," she said with a brief, tight smile. Dr. Stark looked at her closely, and observing the suspiciously swollen eyes and generally wan looks, came to his own conclusions.

"You _have_ been working very hard over the last few weeks. And I must say, your work has been impeccable." They arrived on the peds floor, and she stumbled out, shocked at the first words of praise to pass his lips since she had started working here. He put a hand on her elbow to steady her, and then indicated that she should follow him to his office. For such an austere little man, his office was surprisingly cheery. He even had photographs of a smiling wife and kids on his desk. "That's my oldest daughter," he said, pointing to a framed picture of an exultant girl in a cap and gown, holding up her degree. "She just graduated from Dartmouth," he added proudly, gesturing to a chair and asking Arizona to sit.

She smiled politely, at a loss to understand why he was being so nice all of a sudden. "She looks very happy," she said lamely.

"She studied Classical Archaeology," he went on, and Arizona blinked. Of all the strange things…

"Anyway, Dr. Robbins, what I wanted to say is that you need to take some time off. I'm going to recommend that you take two days—there are no cases that need your immediate attention and I think Karev is quite capable of handling things for a couple of days. You're no good to anyone if you're so exhausted you can't stand."

Arizona gaped at him. This, from the man who seemed to think she was his personal lackey.

"It's non-negotiable, I'm afraid. You can take tomorrow and the day after off, and after that I'll expect to see you back on form."

"Thank you Dr. Stark." She didn't really want or need a break, but she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He looked at her again, his head cocked to a side, as was his habit when he was thinking.

"Dr. Robbins…How is your friend, Ms. Torres?"

The question came out of the blue, and it startled her. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he was trying to get a reaction out of her, or needle her in some way. He was still looking at her with the same concerned expression.

"W-why?"

"Well, I noticed that her concerts have been cancelled for the foreseeable future. You must know that I've followed her career closely, and take every opportunity to hear her play. She's a truly gifted artist." He paused to look at Arizona, and again, she could see nothing but concern and sincerity on his face. His words seemed to come from very far away though, because she couldn't quite process them. "She was due to play in Portland next month, and I was planning to get tickets for the concert. She was to play Schumann."

Arizona's mind was frozen. It refused to work. She just sat there, listening.

"And when I checked," Stark went on, "I found that _all_ her concerts have been cancelled, everywhere. It's highly unusual, and I was wondering if you might know if anything had...you know, _happened_, because you seemed to be…er…_close_ with her." He paused, waiting for Arizona to respond. "…Dr. Robbins?"

"What? Oh…I don't know," she admitted miserably. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

Robert Stark watched her narrowly for a couple of seconds. He was putting two and two together alarmingly fast, and a red number 4 was flashing on and off in his head as he watched his subordinate pull out a tissue and scrub her nose defiantly.

"A while…does that amount to approximately a month?"

Arizona looked at him with her mouth hanging open. When had Robert Stark become omniscient? "Yes sir."

"I only ask because she hasn't made a public appearance since her last concert in LA, which was about a month ago."

Arizona's brain finally began to work as Stark's words sank in. Callie had been out of circulation for a month…

"Dr. Stark, would you excuse me?" She pushed her chair back with a scrape and turned to leave. She rushed to the door, and seizing the handle, yanked in open. She paused for a moment, looking back at Stark, who was still regarding her with that searching look.

"Thank you, sir."

"You will tell me if she's ok," he said. "Go."

She left his office at a run, dodged into the nearest on-call room, shut the door and leaned against it, her head spinning. She had never thought to check Callie's concert schedule! She had been too angry to think about figuring out how to track her down either—if Callie didn't want to be contacted, she would get her wish.

But now, she thought about what Dr. Stark had told her and began to feel just a little sick. Callie's concerts had been cancelled. Something was terribly wrong—what could keep Callie from performing unless she was hurt or ill? Thinking of the way Callie had reacted the first day they had met—when she had accidentally bruised her hand—Arizona dreaded to think of how she might react to a serious injury. It would destroy her.

She had to find her, even if she didn't want to be found. Arizona decided that she was going to find Callie Torres, even if it was just to give her a piece of her mind. She put her considerable intellect to the task. She could look for Addison—surely there couldn't be too many Forbes-Montgomerys around New York City? Or…her father had a line of hotels and a fleet of charter planes, it would surely be possible to contact him? His Gulfstream had the name Taurus and the emblem of a Bull's horns emblazoned on it, and this information alone would make it easy to track him down. Determined on this course of action, Arizona left the on-call room.

As it turned out, she didn't need to find Carlos Torres. It must have been an auspicious day for her, because three things happened almost simultaneously to put an end to her month-long misery. First, Robert Stark gave her the intimation that something was not right. Then, he gave her two days off…and finally, she found out that Addison Montgomery had called her.

She was passing Maggie's station on her way to the elevators when the nurse called out to her. She turned to look, and found that it was not Maggie, but a new nurse she didn't recognize. She stopped, growled with impatience and walked back to the nurse's counter.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Robbins, there was a call for you. An Addison Montgomery wanted to speak to you…actually she called yesterday too."

Arizona stared at the woman. "Addison called _yesterday_ and you failed to tell me?"

The nurse quailed under the icy glare. "I'm sorry Dr. Robbins….You were in surgery when the call came, and I didn't think we were supposed to just give your cell phone number….when I left I told Teresa to tell you…" her voice petered out as she saw the dangerous look in Arizona's eyes. "Uhm…she said it was…" she was barely whispering now "…urgent."

"Stop talking." Arizona lifted her hand and held on to her temper with difficulty. "What did she say? Did she leave a number? And where's Maggie?"

"She wanted you to call her ASAP." She handed Arizona a bright pink post-it on which a number was scribbled. "Maggie's been sick…we're covering her shifts."

"I'll let Maggie deal with you," Arizona said to the terrified young nurse as she grabbed the slip of paper and pulled her phone out, fumbling and almost dropping it in her haste. She dialed the number as she walked off down the hall, and needing some privacy, ducked back into the on-call room she had just vacated. Addison picked up her phone on the first ring.

"Addison Montgomery."

Arizona could not waste time on pleasantries. "Addison? It's Arizona. What happened? Is she hurt?"

There was a short pause at the other end. "How did you know?"

"I just found out all her concerts have been cancelled. Tell me. Right now—what happened?"

XXX

_**The next morning**_

Arizona sat drumming her fingers impatiently on her arm-rest as her taxi nosed its way slowly through a snarl of New York traffic. She bit her lips nervously, insides churning, her mind a melee of mixed emotions. She was furious and anxious, relieved, excited, hurt—each emotion fighting for pride of place within her. She felt like a roiling, seething mess of exposed nerves.

Addison had taken exactly one month and one day to call her. Yesterday's phone call had come after watching her friend struggle for weeks. If she could strangle Addison, she would. At the same time, she wanted to throw her arms around her and thank her for finally coming to her senses and going against Callie's wishes. Knowing how hot-headed and intractable the Latina was, Arizona couldn't really blame Addison too much for over-thinking the issue.

As for Callie….Arizona couldn't sort out her feelings where she was concerned at all. She was relieved that Callie was eventually going to be ok-physically. She was much more anxious that her inability to play would leave deep and permanent scars on her psyche. She hadn't seen any films or scans yet, but from what Addison had told her, the radial nerve injury would heal in three to four months. Getting back the fine motor skills and finger movement Callie required in order to play however, would take much longer than that. She was afraid that Callie could go into depression and not want to work on her recovery at all. From what Addison had told her, she was heading down that path already. On the other hand, she could also imagine her being so hasty and impatient that she pushed herself to some kind of lasting damage.

More than anything else, though, she felt hurt that Callie had not wanted to contact her. And angry that she could have left Arizona to worry, and miss her, and think that she had been a glorified one-night-stand for a month. A month! Callie was in so much trouble. Of all the stubborn, selfish…she really shouldn't have come at all, she thought. Callie didn't want her, and here she was, stupidly looking forward to seeing her again, despite all her anger and resentment.

Addison had not had an easy task persuading her. At first, her answer had been a resounding 'no,' but even as she said it, she knew it would be impossible for her to stay away. Callie was proud and independent to a fault—she probably didn't know, or couldn't admit that she needed help. When Addison mentioned that Callie had not wanted Arizona to see her in her current state, she ground her teeth in annoyance. If that wasn't just typical.

Her taxi had finally made its way to Greenwich Village, and she leaned forward in her seat in considerable agitation. She looked at the address Addison had given her on Perry Street, and realized she was at her destination when the cab slowed down and stopped outside a large brownstone townhouse. _This_ was where Callie lived? How much space did one woman need, she thought, as she looked up at the 5-storey building. Grabbing her carry-on, which was the only piece of luggage she had besides her handbag, she paid the driver and tipped him. Then, sucking in a deep breath, she drew out her phone and called Addison.

"Addison? I'm here. You going to let me in?"

XXX

"I've never really known anyone who had an elevator in their home," she observed, as Addison punched the button for the 5th floor.

"Oh, this house doesn't belong to Callie. She rents the 4th and 5th levels—which have been converted into an apartment," explained Addison. "The house actually belongs to a friend of her father's."

"Oh." She looked at Addison, suddenly awkward. "Did you tell her?"

"You told me not to."

"Yes. Good. I don't want her to have time to think up some crazy-assed excuse not to see me."

Addison's head tilted in sympathy. "It's not that—"

"Yeah. I know. She's not herself—you told me. About a hundred times."

Addison heaved a sigh of relief as the elevator door opened on the 5th floor. She didn't blame the blonde for being prickly. This meeting was going to be interesting…

As they got out, the strains of piano music could be heard, and Arizona turned to Addison, puzzled.

"How…?"

"Come on in. You'll see." The elevator had opened straight onto a vestibule, and Arizona left her carry-on there before following Addison. She pushed open a heavy wooden door that swung silently on its well-oiled hinges, and suddenly, the air was thick with sound. Arizona gasped as she looked around the space they had entered. It was a massive studio, taking up almost the entire floor. It had a high, timbered ceiling and hardwood floors—uncarpeted, for maximum resonance. Two walls of the room were glass, and the space was filled with light. One of the glass walls had a sliding door which opened onto a balcony, on which, if Arizona was not mistaken, she could see a small Zen garden. The focal point of the room was a gleaming black 9-foot grand, which sat massively, proclaiming its dominance over everything there like some kind of colossus.

It was not the piano, however, that Arizona's eyes were drawn to. It was the figure sitting at the piano in a wheelchair, her back turned to the door. The chair had been placed slightly sideways so that Callie could keep her braced leg elevated on a stool. Her right hand was held to her chest in a sling, and with her left, she was playing half a piece. Literally. She was playing the left hand part of something that sounded so bleak, so unmistakably sad and diminished that even Arizona, who was not so sensitive to these things found it almost unbearable. And every so often, the player at the piano leaned forward, pushing her right shoulder towards the keys as if she could somehow will her right hand to supply the parts of the melody that were missing. Watching her, Arizona felt like her heart was being constricted with tight metal bands. She couldn't speak. She stood, frozen to the spot, watching. Callie was unaware that anyone had come in; she was looking at the keys, wrapped up in half a nocturne.

She had lost weight—too much in the space of a month. The half of her face that Arizona could see looked gaunt, her cheekbone conspicuous. Her skin looked sallow and unhealthy, and her hair—she let out a small breath of protest—her beautiful black tresses were gone. Her hair was cut short, and now just about touched the nape of her neck, curling slightly and flicking out to the sides.

She watched Callie lean forward again, unconsciously reaching for the notes her right hand couldn't play. She saw a frown settle on her face, which deepened to a scowl as she played a phrase over and over, her movements getting angrier, jerkier as she got more and more frustrated. Again and again she repeated the same notes, and at times, reached with her left hand for the notes she needed to hear. The effect was ungainly, the phrasing was off. Even Arizona could hear it. On and on, the left hand played over and over again, getting faster, rougher, more frantic, until she brought her fist down on the keys in a harsh discordant splatter of noise. She uttered a sharp exclamation, bringing the clenched fist to her face, and then opening it to wipe her hand across her eyes. Then she started again.

Arizona couldn't take it any longer. Shaking off her state of suspended animation, she walked purposefully up to the piano and grabbed that frenetic hand.

"Calliope, Stop. Please."

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter-I had so many responses, both good and bad. Any reaction is welcomed :) I know some of you absolutely hated it, and I'm sorry. I had this storyline planned for a while, and it just happened to coincide with a really bleak time for Calzona fans. Anyway, like I said earlier, things are going to get better soon. And to one 'guest' who left the comment about the concerts being cancelled-you just read my mind!**


	12. Chapter 12

"Calliope, stop. Please."

Callie's hand was lifted off the keys abruptly, and held firmly between Arizona's. At the sound of her voice, Callie started in shock, and her eyes flew up to check if it really was she who had spoken, and not some manifestation of her own longing. For an instant, her face lit up with something that looked very much like joy, and she uttered a disbelieving "Arizona?" in accents that betrayed her pleasure. The expression was short-lived, but as fleeting as it was, it was not lost on Arizona. It soon morphed into a look of extreme awkwardness and unease.

"Who—how-?" she managed to stutter, and then turned to look at Addison. "You?" she asked, her brows drawing together in gathering wrath. Addison smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders. Callie drew her hand out of Arizona's clasp, and turning her eyes on her lap, self-consciously pulled her hair down on the right side of her face, hunching down in her chair as she did so. Arizona saw the defensive gesture, and reached for the hand again, only to have it wrenched away.

"Calliope, look at me." The plea was soft, heartfelt. Callie heard it and turned her face away towards her injured arm, she didn't want to see the pity in the blonde's eyes. A moment later, she felt her chin being seized and forced back towards Arizona.

"Look at me." This time, the tone was commanding. Her eyes flicked up in surprise, and met a hard blue stare.

"You guys look like you have lots to talk about," Addison said with admirable sang-froid. "I'm just going to head downstairs and see what Callie's got in her fridge. Would you like some coffee, Arizona?"

"Thanks, Addison. Maybe later," Arizona responded, her eyes not leaving Callie's face.

"OK then…you two have a nice chat," Addison sashayed out of the room, pretending she couldn't hear Callie growl her name threateningly as if daring her to leave. The door snicked shut behind her, and they were alone. Most uncomfortably.

For minutes, they did nothing but stare, each one daring the other look away first, or be the first to speak. Arizona took the opportunity to study the changes in Callie's face—the hollows under her cheekbones, the not unappealing way her hair curled and flicked out at the sides, the eyebrows which had been neglected, and the sadness in the depths of the brown eyes that were holding her gaze so defiantly.

The heavy silence stretched out interminably, each determined not to give way. Finally, Arizona moved, and with a boldness that shocked even herself, reached out to move that lock of hair Callie had brought down over the side of her face. Her fingers had just touched it when her wrist was grabbed roughly in a painful grip. The sound of Callie's hand meeting her own made a sharp crack that echoed round the room. She felt her hand being borne down, and resisted forcefully. For a few moments, they stayed locked in that grip like wrestlers, until Callie's hand weakened and dropped to her lap. Wordlessly, Arizona claimed her prize. She lifted Callie's hair away from her face, and softly brushed it aside, exposing the scar Callie was hiding.

Callie lowered her eyes in defeat as she felt gentle fingers touching her face—touching her hated scar. Arizona's other hand came up under Callie's chin again, turning her face to the light while she scrutinized her face. She took in the fine pink line of slightly raised tissue that ran from temple to ear along her hairline. Obviously the work of an artist, she thought. Mark couldn't have done it better himself. The scar would be almost invisible in less than a year. She released Callie's chin, and leaned back against the piano.

"Well, I've seen it. I've seen _you_," she said, her eyes moving from Callie's leg to her arm, and then back to her face. "I'm not screaming in horror. Now can you talk to me, Calliope?"

Callie stared at her, eyes burning, unwilling to move or speak or do anything that might betray the churning chaos inside. Her eyes felt hot with the tears that she couldn't seem to control these days. They were always there, just beneath the surface. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let them fall. "What do you want me to say?" she challenged.

It was an unfortunate choice of words. Arizona was slow to anger, but she had been tamping down her rage for a while now, and Callie's words seemed to pour fuel on the burning coals of her temper. They ignited explosively.

"What do _I_ want you to say? Don't _you_ have anything to say to me? Like, maybe tell me why you felt it was ok to not tell me about this? Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Did you not think that I might be worried about you? Like, going out of my _mind_ kind of worry? Did you think it was alright to pursue me, woo me, _screw_ me all night, and then not call me? Not get _someone_ to call me, even if you couldn't? Was I that forgettable? Was I just some kind of challenge, Callie? A roll in the hay? Did you have not have fun, huh? Was I not satisfactory? Did my skills leave that much to be desired? Because _it sure didn't seem that way to me!_"

She went on without pausing to look at Callie, a month's worth of pent-up emotions boiling out of her like a river in spate. She didn't notice the brunette's shaking shoulders, nor the way she bent her head so that her hair fell forward around her face.

"Did you think it was funny, sending me those flowers? To tell me you adore me, long for me? Were those lies, Callie? Did you think it was funny to make me fall—" she caught herself, "_feel _things for you, care for you? To miss you? To not know if you were _alive_? Do you know how miserable that felt? Do you—" she was cut short by a flailing hand grasping the front of her shirt.

"No! Stop…stop! I _meant_…I wasn't…" Callie choked out disjointedly, raising her face to Arizona and flinching as she saw how furious the blonde was. She was literally trembling. Arizona's tirade was cut short by surprise at the first voluntary contact Callie had made so far. She looked down at her, ready to continue her rant, but the sight of Callie's anguished face made her pause. Her anger ebbed slowly as she saw how distraught she had made her. Damn, she had meant to control her temper. Callie was far too fragile for this right now.

"I'm sorry!" The hand clenched around the material of Arizona's shirt squeezed tighter. "I don't know what to say to you, Arizona. I don't know what I was thinking…I _wasn't _thinking…I couldn't _think_…" her voice became too thick with tears to continue.

Arizona looked down at the desolate face. There was anger and contrition there, sadness, pain and confusion written all over it. She thought she ought to feel some kind of satisfaction. She had finally got to say what she felt, and Callie had deserved every word. But in the face of her distress, Arizona only felt her own heart melt a little. And having just witnessed how Callie was struggling to cope, how the injury had damaged so much more than flesh and bone, she now felt like a bully for upsetting her further. It was illogical—Callie had hurt her too, but when had love ever followed the dictates of logic? It was a topic they could hash out later. She was far from done being upset, but she could see that Callie couldn't make sense of her own feelings, and Arizona would never really know what it was like to be in her position…to have her very reason for living taken away from her. And apart from all that, she discovered that she just couldn't stand seeing tears in Callie's eyes.

She stepped forward and squatted to be closer to eye-level with the brunette. She reached out to touch the tragic face before her, but Callie jerked her head away, looking sideways over her injured arm again. Arizona huffed with impatience, and thought wryly that Callie reminded her forcefully of a sulky child. She got up, fished around in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small squashed pack of tissues. Taking one out, she stooped over the wheelchair and placed it in Callie's hand. "Don't cry," she said quietly, her voice now calm. She took the hand between her own, observing that this time it was not pulled away. "I didn't mean to upset you…I was angry."

She got no response, so she came even closer and stood on Callie's left side. Releasing her hand, Arizona decided to take a risk and put an arm around the brunette, pulling her towards her. She wasn't surprised when she was met with resistance. "Damn it, Calliope, let me help you!" she burst out.

"I don't want your _help_!"

"Well that's just too bad, because you're going to get it! Now stop behaving like a child. You're just a little worse than some of my patients," she said sternly. The unsympathetic note in her voice brought Callie's head round, and she looked up at Arizona a little startled.

"What?"

"A spoiled child, Calliope."

Arizona took the opportunity to take the unused tissue out of Callie's hand and dry her cheeks—which she did briskly and without the slightest hint of sympathy or tenderness. Callie looked at her with suspicion and sudden interest. Who was this person, and what had she done with her Arizona?

"Now," Arizona continued, pulling out another tissue and handing it to Callie, "You're going to wipe your nose, and then, you'll let me hug you, dammit!"

A tiny bubble of sound, a cross between a sob and a chuckle escaped Callie even as she fought to hold it back. Arizona heard it and smiled, one of her genuine sunny smiles. She pulled the piano stool up to the side of Callie's chair so that she could sit facing her, and slipped her arm around Callie's shoulders again. "I'm so mad at you, Calliope Torres. But for now I'll take that hug. Hurry up." Callie's face crumpled all over again, but she flung her good arm around Arizona and leaned forward to bury her face in her shoulder.

That was how Addison found them when she quietly opened the door sometime later. She raised an inquiring eyebrow at Arizona, pointing to the door and silently asking if she should leave again. Arizona shook her head, and lifting her hand from Callie's curls, motioned her to come in. She then gently pried Callie's face away from her shoulder.

"You hungry?" She asked matter-of-factly.

Callie considered her question. "I could eat," she said, over a little hiccup.

XXX

"Callie has loads of room. You don't have to go to a hotel!" Addison had brought Arizona's bag down and put it in Callie's spare room.

"Well, thanks Addison. Go ahead and plan the rest of my life, why don't you?" Callie said snippily. She was still angry with Addison, even though she knew that she ought to be grateful. Just knowing that made her annoyed.

"Thanks, I will, since you're clearly not capable of doing it yourself," Addison shot back.

"Don't fight over me, kids. I can find my way to a hotel easily enough," Arizona said, thinking that it might be rather uncomfortable to stay at Callie's considering how awkward things were between them right now. And the constant bickering that she and Addie engaged in could get old pretty fast.

"Callie has obviously left her manners upstairs. With her mind. There's plenty of room Arizona."

Arizona looked around the apartment. It _was_ huge, and looked like something out of an interior design catalogue. The furniture was perfectly matched and upholstered-modern yet comfortable, the colors striking but not garish, the décor minimal, yet tasteful. There was a noticeable lack of knick-knacks and trinkets around, and the only two paintings she had put up were arresting abstracts. One wall of the living room was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves—crammed with an eclectic assortment of books ranging from classical Greek tragedy to Fantasy to poetry of all types and eras. The bookshelves revealed much more about Calliope than she would have guessed—she apparently read voraciously, and was not really too organized with her shelving.

She turned away from the bookshelves. "What about Sonia?"

"Sonia doesn't live too far away, she could go home tonight." Addison was referring to the live-in nurse who had been hired to help Callie until she could manage on her own. With a fractured arm and leg on her right side, Callie needed help with almost everything—dressing, showering, moving from her wheelchair to her bed, and vice versa. She couldn't get around on crutches yet either—her broken arm made it an impossibility. She had to have help, and her lack of independence was a constant thorn in her side.

Callie raised her voice. "You can't stay at a hotel, don't be silly. I thought you came here to see me?"

"I came here to give you a piece of my mind, Calliope," was the acerbic response.

"Well, you can tick that off your list. Come on, stay with me. I have no designs on your virtue."

Addison looked at Callie in surprise. It had been a while since she had engaged in any kind of chat or banter, and she was thrilled to see her already responding to Arizona's presence.

Arizona pouted. "Oh well then…I might as well go to a hotel." She watched Callie absorb her meaning and smile. "Oh, so you _do_ know how to smile." Callie's smile grew a little wider, and then disappeared abruptly when Arizona said "Alright. I'll stay. You can give Sonia a day off."

"What do you mean, give her the day off?" Callie's tone was emitting warning signals that Arizona didn't hear. Or pretended not to.

Addison cleared her throat and shook her head, but Arizona ploughed on, regardless. "Well, if I'm staying with you for the next couple of days, _I_ can help you, Calliope. You can give Sonia a break."

"No. Absolutely not."

Arizona looked at Callie curiously, and raised her eyebrows in surprise at the flat refusal. "Why? Believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"I don't want you to be my nurse. Can you get that Arizona? It's bad enough having Sonia help me shower and dress. You are the last person I need seeing me like that." Callie was horrified at the thought of Arizona having to help her bathe—it would be too humiliating. Callie's tone was vehement and desperate, and Arizona backed off. She sensed that she had been a little insensitive, but she was a very practical person, and didn't think Callie needed to fuss so much about it. She could tell that negotiating Callie's moods was going to be like walking a tightrope.

"Fine. But there's nothing there I haven't already seen," she said, waving her hand at Callie's body, and enjoying her momentary discomfiture. Addison rolled her eyes.

"Can we keep it clean, please?"

XXX

Addison had spent most of the day with them, and now she was tired of being their buffer. After the morning's stormy quasi-reconciliation, both Arizona and Callie had retreated a little, like two generals eyeing each other across a battlefield—one deciding on the best line of attack, and the other getting her defenses in order. Each had separately threatened Addison with various forms of torture if she left, but it was getting late, and she did have a life, even though Callie seemed to think it revolved around her. She waited until Callie went in for a shower before grabbing her purse and turning to Arizona.

"Right. I'm leaving."

Arizona made no attempt to stop her this time. She was ready for some alone time with her Calliope, even if she was in a mood. Her moodiness was something Arizona found both intensely annoying and endearing at the same time. It was what had drawn her to Callie in the first place—her hasty temper, her imperious and sometimes entitled behavior, her inability to brook any kind of opposition. Not traits that Arizona would normally admire—but somehow, in Callie, she found them devastatingly attractive.

All her life, Callie had never expressed the smallest wish that hadn't immediately been granted. Her parents doted on her, her teachers sang her praises. She had been blessed with everything money could offer, and a few things that money couldn't buy—good looks, an agile mind, sublime talent, and a big heart. She lacked nothing, wanted nothing. What was extraordinary was that with every incentive to be the opposite, Callie was hardworking, driven, and independent. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this paralyzing feeling of helplessness, and it chafed her unbearably. For someone who had done precisely as she wished all her life, to suddenly find she couldn't even change her clothes without help must have been almost impossible to accept.

Arizona had been thinking things through all day. She thought she understood Callie's moodiness, her depression. It was not only that she couldn't play the piano. She couldn't do _anything._

"Addison, before you go can you tell me something?" she asked. Addison had been heading out, but she turned around and came back into the living room. She looked warily at the blonde, wondering why her expression was suddenly rather serious. She had noticed that Arizona had been fairly quiet all day, but had put it down to Callie's less-than-effusive greeting.

"Where is Calliope's family?"

"They're in Miami—I thought you knew that."

"I had some idea—but we've never really had a chance to sit and just talk, you know?"

"Hmm. I know only too well. Why do you ask?"

"Callie needs a support system. She needs her people around her right now. No offence, Addison—you've been incredible. But there's just so much you can do, and you've got your own stuff to see to, and your work. I'm sure it hasn't been easy for you. You must have the patience of a saint."

"Huh. You'll get no arguments from me. But she's my best friend—she's been there for me during some really rough times. She doesn't count the cost, you know. It's all or nothing with her—that's the way she's wired. With anything in her life—her career, her friends, her relationships…" Addison broke off and looked meaningfully at Arizona. "I know I don't have to tell you this Arizona…she's convinced she's useless now. Not good enough. For you. Don't be put off by her abrasiveness…in four weeks I haven't heard her talk as much as she has in one day with you."

Arizona was touched. There was so much more to Addison that met the eye. "I get it. I understand why…I just need some time to get it out of my system. I wouldn't be here unless I didn't care for her. A lot." That was as close as she would come to telling Addison that she loved her provoking, mulish, thorny,_arrogant_ friend in a huge and embarrassing way. "But she needs to be with her family now. She shouldn't sit here alone in the cold, with only Sonia for company—brooding on her hand all day, driving herself into depression. She should have people around her who love her, who will take care of her and who she will not feel awkward or uncomfortable getting help from."

"Don't you think I know this?" Addison said with an impatient gesture. "I'm the only one she sees and talks to, and I know it's not good for her. Her father was here, for about two weeks, and then he had to go back to Miami. He practically begged her to come home. She refused—she wouldn't hear of it."

"Tch. Go figure. Someone needs to watch that she doesn't push herself too hard in recovery, and also to keep her motivated to go for therapy, when she does start PT. Someone needs to keep her from dwelling on her injury, or she's going to drive herself insane. I can't be that person for her right now—she doesn't want me in that capacity—you saw how she reacted when I offered to help?"

"I did. And I'm not surprised. What did you expect, Arizona? She doesn't need you to see her naked and exposed, literally or figuratively. Right now, she can't handle it. Besides, let's not forget that you're all the way over in Seattle, and have a crazy schedule. There's no way you can look after her."

"Which is why she needs to go to Miami."

They looked at each other, knowing that Arizona's idea was probably what was best for Callie, but neither wanting to be the one to have to convince her to agree to it.

Addison eyed Arizona like a cornered animal, and started edging for the door. "So…Good luck with that," she said, before turning tail and fleeing.

"Addison! Wait!"

Addison opened the front door and paused. "Ten seconds. That's all you have."

"Do you think I'll be able to speak to her doctors? See her scans?"

"She has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Ask her permission, and then knock yourself out! You can have the honor of taking her tomorrow," Addison supplied with a grin. "And Arizona?" she said, as she walked out.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

XXX

"Calliope, will you sit here?" Arizona asked, patting the couch she was sitting on. Callie had emerged from her shower looking much happier, and hadn't protested when Arizona suggested that Sonia could have the rest of the evening off. Having Arizona help her into bed didn't strike her as too much of a hardship. She was even ok with the fact that Addison had decided to abandon her. Having Arizona with her—even if she was still angry—had lifted her spirits perceptibly. She was somewhat nervous about the inevitable tête-a-tête they were going to have—why else would Arizona ask that Sonia leave—but she was also almost happy to have her all to herself. The blonde's brusque attitude towards her had done more to restore some faith in herself than all the sympathy she'd been receiving, all the tip-toeing around her that people had been doing. Arizona's practical, rather clinical approach to her injuries had helped to lessen her self-consciousness. It struck her that Arizona was extremely shrewd, and that she understood her better, after three months' acquaintance, than many people did after knowing her for years. Excepting Addie, of course.

"Will you help me get out of the wheelchair?"

Arizona rose and approached the chair. She wheeled it as close to the couch as possible and then went to stand by Callie. "Ok, put your arm around my waist—yeah—and lean on me. Oof!" Callie was built on generous lines, and Arizona was glad they only had to shift her a foot or so. A short and ungainly scuffle later, Callie was deposited safely on the couch and Arizona took up her position at the opposite end of the seat.

"And you thought you could get me in and out of a shower? You'd need to do some serious lifting before you'd be fit for that," Callie mocked. "You can come a little closer you know, I don't bite." She regretted her words instantly, because in two seconds flat, Arizona was uncomfortably close. So close she could smell her citrusy shampoo, and the subtle perfume that somehow made her envision Alpine meadows. Or maybe that was because those cornflower blue eyes were gazing an unblinking challenge at her.

"On the contrary, Calliope," Arizona said provocatively, "I happen to have first-hand knowledge that you _do_ bite. _And_ scratch." She watched in satisfaction as Callie's face turned pink and then red, how she bit her lip and ducked her head so that her hair fell forward around her cheeks. Arizona threaded her fingers through those thick strands, pushed them away from Callie's face, and gently touched the open curls that flicked out below her ears.

"I like it," she said. "I think it's cute."

Callie looked at her and scoffed. "It's awful. I look like crap."

Arizona mimed throwing a line out and reeling it in, making a "pssshhhh" noise as she mimicked the sound of the nylon line reeling round its spool. "Fishing, Calliope."

Callie couldn't help smiling. "I'm not fishing, and you're a dork. How did you make it out of high school in one piece?"

"Calliope. I like the hair. I think it's pretty, and it suits you. Now will you stop messing around with it? Besides, it's only hair. It'll grow." She paused for a moment, and moved back slightly to give Callie some space. Her expression grew serious, and she reached out to take Callie's hand. She waited until she was sure she had her attention. "Now. There's a few things we need to talk about."

Callie nodded and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Yeah. Yeah, we do."


	13. Chapter 13

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

And there it was. That was the sound of their fragile truce going to hell. Arizona pursed her lips and thoughtfully regarded the wrathful face before her. She had been expecting an outburst, and here it was, right on cue. She felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to giggle, and wondered at the inappropriate impulse. There was nothing remotely funny about her situation. Here she was, uninvited and probably unwanted, elbowing her way into Callie's life and telling her what to do with it. On top of that, she was still blazing mad at Callie for having ignored her for four weeks, but felt her resentment melt every time she looked at the brunette. It was an odd confliction of humors—this anger, coupled with the most confounding feeling of…was it tenderness?

They looked at each other a little longer—Callie glaring, and Arizona simply watching her fume and refusing to be drawn into an argument. Callie was obviously waiting for an excuse to blow up and Arizona knew better than to feed her anger. The muscles at the corners of her mouth twitched. Somehow, for some perverse reason, Callie's outbursts of temper only endeared her to Arizona. It was all a little ridiculous. She bit her lips as a bubble of laughter rose inside her and worked its way into her mouth. Callie's smoldering eyes were boring angry holes through her, and all she wanted to do was laugh? The thought made the fizzing bubble burst through her lips in a little snicker of amusement.

It was not behavior that was calculated to please. Callie's face grew even more incensed as she watched the callous behavior of the woman who claimed to have her best interests at heart. She was laughing at her. _Laughing_. She had suggested something outrageous, and now she was laughing at Callie's justifiably annoyed reaction. If Callie had a crutch, Arizona would not be safe sitting so close to her on the couch.

"I'm glad to see my situation amuses you," she said in her chilliest tone, putting her good arm out to grab her wheelchair. There was no way she was going to sit here and be made fun of—she would _crawl_ off if she had to. Her hand was taken before it could reach the arm of the wheelchair, and before she could react to that, Arizona was once again sitting far too close to her. _Far_ too close. She could feel blonde hair skimming silkily against her skin. What did she think she was doing? She was insensitive and infuriating and way, _way_ too close. Before she could do anything about the blonde's proximity, she felt two strong hands on her cheeks, holding her still. Arizona's face was now mere inches from her own, and there was a look of such indulgent tolerance there that for a moment, Callie forgot to be mad. Cool blue eyes were studying her closely, laughter still evident in the upward tilt at their corners.

"Oh, that's scary, Calliope," she said, gently mocking. Her forefingers traced the 'V' of displeasure that Callie's brows had formed over her haughty nose, and smoothed it away. Callie looked at her in complete bemusement, her anger dissipating under this sudden attack of irrelevance. Arizona leaned back slightly to get a better view of her handiwork. "That's so much better," she said, smiling. Callie was thoroughly disarmed.

"Stop making fun of me. I'm not a child," she said, sounding exactly like one. She found it a little difficult to speak clearly because Arizona hadn't released her cheeks. The effect wasn't as dignified as she'd planned, and the blonde's mouth quirked up again. She looked at the puzzled, fuming brunette for a moment and then leaned forward and kissed her nose.

"Sweetie, when you behave like one, I'm going to treat you like one," she said, enjoying the look of amazement that came over Callie's face. "Besides, I can't promise I'm not going to make you angry just to see you get all hot and bothered." It was true. The angrier Callie got, the more Arizona wanted to grab her and shake her, and then kiss the crap out of her.

"And you don't deserve to be tolerated, Calliope, not one bit—not with the shit you pulled with me," she went on. "I'm still mad at you, so it's perfectly fine with me if you throw as many tantrums as you like. Go right ahead. I'll wait it out. And just because I'm still mad at you doesn't mean I can't do this—" and she leaned forward once more, removed her hands from Callie's face and kissed each cheek.

Robbed of words, all Callie did for a minute was look at Arizona as if she was a newly discovered form of life. Then, as the blonde's audacity sank in, she felt a smile tugging at her mouth.

"I wish you would be serious," she said finally.

"I have been serious all day. So have you. If we get any more serious we're going to drive ourselves and each other into a state of depression. I'm not going to be serious anymore. I told you what I think you should do, and why. I'm not trying to deprive you of your independence—I'm trying to make sure you get better in surroundings that you'll be safe and comfortable and happy in. Because I care about you, you stubborn, pig-headed, irritating, adorable fool."

The tiny smile on Callie's mouth faltered a little as Arizona neared the end of her spiel. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she breathed a soft "You do?" in accents so hopeful and yet so vulnerable that Arizona felt her heart contract painfully and protest with its overload of emotions. She leaned close again, and slipped her arm around Callie's shoulders.

"Psshh. This lack of common sense, Calliope," she said, her voice a caress. "Why do you think I'm here, hmm? Despite your utter lack of interest in seeing me?"

Callie shook her head. "I _did _want to see you. So badly…I just couldn't stand the thought of you being with me out of a sense of obligation or pity…so I put off making the call, and days went by and I knew you'd be so mad…and I thought it was too late, you know…" She looked at Arizona, silently pleading with her to understand, because words were simply not going to be enough to explain the darkness that had engulfed her—that still surrounded her—the anger and pain, and the mess inside her head. She tried again. "I'm not the person you knew a few weeks ago…I'm so angry, all the time. I can't _do _anything. I can't _play_. It feels like something inside me is dying! I'm not someone you should be with—I'm a horrible ugly mess, both inside and out…Just look at me!"

Arizona felt it was time to interrupt. She touched Callie's cheek, running her thumb along a prominent cheekbone. "I _am_ looking at you. And you're beautiful, Calliope. These scars…?" she touched the scar at Callie's temple, and then indicated the surgical site on her arm, and those covered by the brace on her leg. "They're going to fade. Slowly. But over time, they'll become less noticeable…and don't you know that scars are badass, Calliope? They make you _more _attractive, if that's even possible…these scars say 'I've come through rough times, and I'm strong.'"

Callie gave a disbelieving huff, and opened her mouth to scoff but was silenced when the fingers that were touching her cheek were laid across her lips. "Listen to me, and don't roll your eyes." Arizona dropped her hand from Callie's mouth and touched her right hand, on which she had to wear a brace to keep her wrist straight. "Radial nerve injuries are a fairly common complication with breaks like yours. I'm sure your doctor would have told you that?" Callie nodded. "You have to be patient, Calliope. It will get better."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It's only been a month. These things take time…three or four months at least, and probably longer for you to regain the type of movement you require to play. So you're going to have to wait it out, follow your physical therapist's instructions to the letter. And most of all, you have to be positive….Do you understand why I told you to go to Miami? "

At the mention of Miami, Callie's face grew mutinous again. "Arizona, I'm not…" she began, but was interrupted before she could get too involved in her objections.

"Calliope, would you just listen to me, please? Staying here by yourself is not good for you—"

"I'm not by myself, I have Addie. And Sonia."

"Addison has a life, honey. She's an incredible friend, but it's a lot of strain to put on one person, isn't it? She has to work, see to her other clients, keep you from working yourself into a depression, take you for your doctor's appointments…and while Sonia is excellent, she's not your family, who love you no matter how moody you are."

Callie was quiet. She hadn't really thought about Addison, she'd been too wrapped up in her own misery. Suddenly, she felt like a self-involved brat. "I'm not moody," she said, deflecting and picking on the least relevant thing Arizona had said.

"And I'm the queen of Sheba. You, Calliope, are the moodiest, most volatile person I know." Arizona's hand was back on her cheek, and her tone was so affectionate that it robbed her words of venom. "You're used to having things your own way…but this is one thing you have no control over. It will take as long as it's going to take, and no amount of fretting on your part is going to change that. I bet your parents never ever told you no, huh?"

Callie had the grace to look sheepish. It was true—she'd never been denied anything her whole life.

"Are you an only child?" Arizona pursued.

"Nope. Ha! That's where you're wrong, Ms. Freud. I have a younger sister, Aria." Callie said triumphantly. She thought of her incorrigible sister and smiled. It had been way too long since she'd seen her. "She's a wild card," she added. Suddenly, the prospect of going home seemed a little less awful. To exchange New York in the grips of winter for the warmth of Miami…was that really so bad?

"Sounds like you're pretty fond of her," Arizona prodded gently, hoping that if she continued in this vein, Callie would remember all the good things that 'home' stood for.

"I know what you're doing, Arizona. Try again."

"Calliope, you'll be bored and lonely sitting here in your apartment, scaring yourself silly and worrying about your hand, and generally making yourself ill. You need your people around you now. What's wrong with that? Addison said your parents dote on you. Why don't you want to go back?"

Callie was indignant. When had Addison and Arizona become so buddy-buddy? "Addison's been really busy, I can see," she said waspishly. "So the two of you have been sitting together and …what? Discussing what a sad sack I am?"

Arizona's patience was wearing thin. "Enough with the pity party," she snapped. "Addison has been your rock through all this, Callie. And you may not_want_ me here, but she had the sense to see that you need help, and from someone who's going to call you on your bullshit. I don't know why she tolerates you sometimes—believe it or not, I think she feels guilty that it was you and not she who got hurt."

Callie was slightly stunned. Then she remembered the words she'd spat at Addison a couple of weeks ago at the hospital, and felt like a worm. To think that she'd allowed Addie to feel like that. She ducked her head in what was becoming a habitual movement, to hide an overwhelming feeling of shame. Arizona was quiet for a while, watching as Callie sank back in her seat and brought her good hand up to cover her eyes. She felt that a few minutes of thinking about someone besides herself would do her good.

After a good five minutes of complete silence between them, she reached out and took Callie's hand away from her face. She held it between her own, but continued to say nothing. After yet another long silence, Callie turned to face her.

"I've been a selfish bitch," she said quietly. "I wasn't thinking about Addie…or—or you."

"You've gone through something awful, life-changing. You're allowed to be a little selfish. But we want to help you, sweetie, not hurt you. I wish you would see that."

"I do. I do see it. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry…"

Arizona saw her opportunity. Callie was feeling contrite right now, and her last persuasive argument just might work.

"Calliope, think of this as doing my patients a favor. I'm going to be all the way over in Seattle, thinking about you here alone, and worrying about you. I wouldn't be able to do my job properly…and that would be putting kids in jeopardy. So…just for the tiny humans sake, Calliope, not for me, or Addie…would you please, please go to Miami?"

Callie looked at her suspiciously for a moment, wary that she was being made fun of again. Then she smiled. "You think you're so smart, don't you? All right. I'll go…but only for you. And there's a condition."

"I thought there might be. What is it?"

"You have to come see me. I can't spend three months down in Miami and not see you the entire time. I don't know how you're going to swing it, but you're going to have to come."

"I will. I promise," Arizona said, hugging Callie in relief. "Fortunately, my boss is really taken with you, and is inclined to be sympathetic…"

"Taken with me?"

"Yeah…but not, believe me, as much as I am."

"You are a master manipulator and sweet-talker. I hope you know that I know that."

Arizona got off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. She blew an airy kiss at Callie and walked off with an exaggerated swagger. "I'm going to get us some dinner. Where do you keep the take-out menus?"

XXX

Callie relaxed noticeably over dinner. Arizona's playful and inconsequential chatter kept her amused, and they steered clear of any more loaded topics for the time being. Arizona had asked for and been granted permission to speak to Callie's doctor and see her file—she had agreed with very little fuss and actually seemed to welcome the idea. For the first time in a month, Callie spent a couple of hours not obsessing about her hand—in fact, she didn't think of her hand more than two or three times—a victory in itself. She began to see the validity of Arizona's suggestion of a move to Miami—her overprotective family could be annoying, but they were loud and cheerful and probably wouldn't give her any time to mope. Maybe that was what she needed. Sun and warmth and her smothering mom and irrepressible sister, and most of all, the father she loved more than anything in the world.

She couldn't stop looking at Arizona. All day, her presence had been like a shaft of sunlight falling into a room that had been shrouded in darkness, and Callie was feeling the effects of Arizona's sunshine already. She studied her covertly when she thought the blonde was not aware of her scrutiny. Though Arizona was in her most casual clothes, sans any trace of make-up, to Callie, she had never looked more perfect—not even on the night she'd stolen her breath away in that black backless dress. Her jeans were worn to the point of being a little threadbare—frayed around the hem and knees, the material so soft with repeated washing that it clung to her form like a second skin. She had abandoned her shoes and tucked her feet up under her on the sofa. Before she did so, Callie noticed that her toe-nails were painted a dark glittery blue—contrasting starkly against small pink toes which were unlawfully cute. Her grey long-sleeved top hugged her closely and did nothing to conceal a deliciously tight body. Callie remembered the way that body felt wrapped around her, the way Arizona's skin felt under her hands, or when it slid up against her own. She licked her lips and swallowed. Bad thoughts. Bad. Arizona had been openly affectionate towards her, but Callie had a feeling she was still a long way from forgiving her. More to the point, Callie was in no position to engage in the type of activity she'd just been thinking of…not in her present condition. Still…she hadn't thought of anything remotely like this all month. All Arizona had to do was sit in front of her, apparently…

"You're staring."

Callie was jerked out of her reverie. Arizona was looking at her curiously. "Did you even hear what I just said, Calliope?"

"Sorry. Its…It's just I that can't believe you're here. It seems unreal to me—I thought I'd never see you again…" She stopped before she could get too emotional. Arizona uncurled herself from her seat on the sofa and came to Callie, who had not got out of her wheelchair after dinner. She put her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over the brunette.

"I'm here. Look," she took Callie's good hand and placed it on her chest. "I'm real. You're going to see a lot of me, and you are never going to be so stubborn and proud and downright stupid as to not let me help you again. Do you understand, Calliope?" Callie's hand fisted in the material of her shirt, and she nodded.

"Good. Now I'm going to help you get into bed, and I don't want any arguments or fights about it."

"You're so bossy all of a sudden."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, darling," was the drawled response.

XXX

Arizona said stood on Callie's right side and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. Moving her was a little more difficult than she'd anticipated, but giving Callie support on her right side, she was able to help her move the few inches from the chair to her bed. She lifted Callie's right leg onto the bed and drew the comforter over her; then looked around the room once more with slightly awed expression on her face. "Well, you could use a little more room in here, couldn't you?"

Callie's bedroom was huge—probably the size of two decently proportioned rooms. One narrow end of the rectangular room was a window, and the space by the window was occupied by a comfy looking sofa, and a number of large floor cushions all in a shade of dusky blue. The sofa was strewn with cushions, books, music and an open computer. At least half the wall closest to the window was taken up by another massive bookcase—absolutely crammed with books, and on these shelves she had also placed the little knick-knacks of her life that were missing from the surfaces of her living room.

It was her bed, however, that really caught the eye. It seemed to float about a foot off the floor, defying gravity in the most perplexing way. Arizona soon realized that the platform of the massive bed rested on a smaller plinth-like structure underneath that was not visible, and therefore made the bed look like it hovered in mid-air. The sheets were blue; dark and smooth, and matched the wall above her bead head, which was textured and shaded in blues and greys. Arizona found it soothing, if a little dark and somber for a bedroom. The wall opposite her bed looked like a sheet of music—it had a line of some piece running along the entire length of the wall, and Arizona felt sure it had to be significant to have been placed there.

"I like my space," Callie said, watching Arizona take in her room. She had been fairly tractable over the last several minutes, allowing Arizona to help her change and brush her teeth. It had not been easy for her—to be disrobed in this way by the one person who should have been taking her clothes off for quite another reason. She had turned away, stiff with embarrassment, when Arizona slid her skirt off, only meeting her eye once more when they had got her into the soft, wide-legged shorts she slept in.

"Sexy, aren't they?" she had said, biting her lip and indicating her unflattering attire, trying to hide how deeply mortified she felt that this had become necessary.

Arizona knelt in front of her. "Calliope, you would be sexy in bloomers and puff sleeves. The only thing I'd be concerned about is whether you were warm enough in these." This got a small laugh from Callie, and an assurance that it was warm enough when she got into bed. Between nonsense and coaxing, Arizona got her changed and in bed with as little fuss and bother as possible. Now she lay back against her pillows and watched Arizona, grateful at how businesslike and matter-of-fact she had been about the whole process. The blonde was leaning over Callie, making sure her arm was comfortably positioned in her sling and adjusting a pillow at her side. She was intent on what she was doing, seemingly unaware of Callie's observation.

"You're doing it again."

Damn it. How did she always get caught?

"You have no subtlety Calliope. I will always know."

Callie found herself laughing again. "You're too sharp for your own good."

"I am that. Now, I'm going to say goodnight Calliope. You need to rest, and I really need to shower."

"Wait!" Callie caught her hand before she could leave. "I know I don't have the best way of showing it…but I'm happy you're here." She tugged on the hand she was holding. "I know you're angry with me Arizona, and I'll never be able make it up to you—I realized today how stupid I've been…"

Arizona placed her finger on Callie's lips. "I understand, Calliope. It's okay…well, it's not ok, but I'll work my way round to forgiving you. I understand why. And the way you looked at me this morning? When you first saw me? I knew you were happy to see me. Everything else, is just you being you. And even though we've not known each other long, I _know_ you, Calliope…er…what's your middle name?"

Callie was startled by the sudden irrelevant question. "Huh?"

"I was just going to say 'I know you Calliope 'middlename' Torres,'" explained Arizona. "And then I realized I don't know your middle name—which kind of negates my whole speech about knowing you…"

Callie smiled, and then giggled at Arizona's ramble. "You don't want to know my middle name."

"I do. I want to know everything about you." Blue eyes were looking earnestly down into hers, and Callie felt her reservations crumble just a little more.

"Ok then. Iphigenia."

Arizona's lips rolled into an 'O' of surprise. "Wow. Your parents really liked their Greek Literature, huh?"

"My father, actually. But why he wanted to name me after a doomed Argive princess, goodness knows. Your turn."

"Not half so interesting. Caitlin."

Callie considered it for a minute. "Its pretty. Suits you."

"It was my maternal Grandmother's name." Arizona bent down over Callie again. "Now, I'm going to take that shower," she said, kissing her cheek. Callie surprised her by putting her arm around her neck, drawing her down into a close embrace and holding her tightly. Arizona felt her heart do a funny little skipping maneuver when she felt lips against her neck, moving up to her jaw, kissing her cheek, her nose, her eyelids. Callie felt like she'd opened some kind of floodgate—she couldn't stop. When she'd covered every inch of Arizona's face, she hovered uncertainly for a second at her lips. The blonde's eyes were closed, but her lips were smiling, so Callie went ahead and kissed them. Once, twice…ten times—she lost count. Somewhere around the sixth or seventh kiss, she was kissed back—gently at first, but then with an almost desperate seeking, craving for contact.

She felt her cheeks grow wet and wondered how she had anymore tears left to shed, then realized that they were not hers. Arizona's eyes were still closed, but tears were escaping from between the shut lids, and falling on Callie's face. Guilt skewered her yet again.

"Arizona…" she whispered, but could not find the voice or words to continue.

Arizona moved away and hurriedly swept her hands over her cheeks. "I'm fine, Calliope. Really. Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"You don't have to apologize—I think that's for me to do." Callie reached up again to touch wet cheeks. "I know I hurt you, and nothing I can say or do now is going to make that better. I'm sorry—I'm so terribly sorry for putting you through what I did. I will regret it as long as I live. But please don't…nothing could be a worse punishment for me."

"Then maybe I should cry a little more, huh?" Arizona sniffed and stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to dry up. "You know, I didn't think I'd see you again either." She was silent for a long time, thoughts turning slowly in her head. Then she turned to Callie once more. "Let's not bring this up again. Can we move forward from here? The best way you can make anything up to me, Calliope, is by putting everything you have into getting better."

"I will, I swear."

"Then let's forget about it. Now let me go, Calliope, I'm beginning to smell a bit rank."

Callie released the sleeve of Arizona's shirt she was unaware she'd been clutching. "Will you come back? After your shower?"

"Don't you want to sleep?"

"Will you sleep here?" The words rushed from Callie's mouth as the thought formed in her brain.

Arizona had straightened up and turned to go out, but on hearing Callie's words, she swung round again, her eyebrows climbing into her hairline.

"What?"

"God…I mean…just sleep, Arizona. Nothing else, I swear…couldn't even if I wanted to. I just…well, I only want…" Callie covered her face with her hand and wished she had kept her mouth shut.

Arizona looked at Callie trying to make herself invisible in the massive bed. It did look rather lonely in there. "I know what you want," she said, gently flicking a reddening cheek. "I'd like it too. So give me a few minutes...I'll be back."


End file.
